Should Have Asked for Directions
by dylanhart
Summary: A lifelong story about what it's like to know at fifteen who your heart belongs to and what lengths a girl will go to in order to keep it there forever... Note: The content in this story is an original work and is copyrighted against theft, plagiarism, and infringement. Glee owns their characters. I do not. (C) 2011 Dylan Hart
1. Prologue

From the author: Hello everyone. This story spans ten years and jumps back and forth between two parallel time lines. The headings are important, so please read them so to not be lost in your own shoes. :) Enjoy. The story will eventually work towards mature, so I'm starting it there and leaving it.

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><p>Prologue<p>

_Present Day_

She figured something as dainty and lacy as this would feel a bit lighter in her hands. Instead, it felt like she held her future and her past all rolled into one huge ball of mass sent through a steam roller, a printing press, and then off to the calligrapher.

It was claustrophobic just looking at it.

_Quinn Fabray_; it was nice, pretty and so whimsically written across the envelope. The pen shook in her hand as she stared down at the name. She knew what was next: address, address 2, city, state, and then zip.

And then post office.

She gulped down her fear of what she imagined would be longest walk of her life: car to post office box. Her feet would feel leaded, just as her fingers did now. She never imagined this moment would come.

"I still can't believe you're inviting her," said the voice behind Rachel. It was always there. It was always questioning, wondering, doubting. It never helped. Even though Rachel felt no actual doubt, those questions and those wonderings and those doubts always planted thoughts in her head. She hated those thoughts. They drove her mad.

"She's- she's my best friend, Janey," Rachel countered. "Of course I'm inviting her."

"No, she's your high school sweetheart turned ex. And this is our wedding. Don't play the best friend card on me. Puck is your best friend, not Quinn. Quinn is your ex. And you haven't spoken in a year."

"Semantics."

"Important semantics," Janey chuckled and slid onto the bench next to Rachel. Their kitchen table flooded with invitations, envelopes, direction napkins, and more. "Why do you want her there anyway? Honestly, not Rachel-Berry-Justificationally."

Rachel turned her head to the shiny ginger squished up beside her. Bright blue eyes sparkled back at her and the deep auburn hair flooded around her pale shoulders. She was striking as ever. Rachel smiled.

"Justificationally is not a word, J. And honestly honestly?"

"Yes, spare no horrid details, please."

"I just miss her."

"Well she was practically your childhood. I mean all of high school, right? It's okay to miss her."

"And college."

"Right, and college."

"_And_ technically my first year of Broadway even though it was also my last year of college. It's like I have two separate lives in memory: one where she was around and one where, where she wasn't. I feel like two people almost," Rachel muttered with a frustrated frown. Janey smirked and slid closer to the brunette who'd officially stolen her heart a year ago.

"And what happened the second year of Broadway, huh? Tell me _that _story," she snickered and placed a kiss on Rachel's cheek. The brunette couldn't help but shiver away a giggle.

"This headcase ginger took over my life."

"Headcase!"

"Mhm," she whispered and found the girl's lips for a sweet peck. When Rachel pulled back, with all intentions set on finishing their wedding invitations, Janey stretched forward and took her lips back. She reached down slowly, pulled the papers out of Rachel's hands and then slid herself into the brunette's lap.

"You can finish these later," she purred and wrapped her arms fully around her fiancée. Rachel moaned into the kiss and let her mind stray to Janey, kissing her fully. The dancer extended those long, lean legs around her and Rachel found herself no longer having to force her mind to "stray" to her fiancée. She could do this. Janey Jansen was delicious and marrying her. She could definitely do this.

"Mmm," Rachel whimpered into the girl. "Quinn _who_?"

"That's my girl."


	2. Chapter 1  HS Senior Year  May

May - High School Senior Year

_Take the Rest Stop Exit_

Each time she closed her eyes, she imagined it differently; it's why she stopped closing her eyes. The yearning buried deep in the pit of her stomach went from burrowing with a small overnight bag to having set up camp, built a community, and held elections.

Two years would do that.

For two years, she did everything asked of her. For two years, she watched as her heart slowly left her own body and took up residence in the blonde's. For two years, she rode the coaster that rocked her life so magnificently. She couldn't stop it. She couldn't help it. She couldn't fight it. It was a beautiful, unexpected crash of pure, meant-to-be passion.

And still, each time she closed her eyes she imagined it differently. Everyone told her, "Your first love is the worst." Add the fact that her first love stole her heart at age fifteen, held it for the next two years and then turned her back on a whim and Rachel figured her "worst" was worse than most. It was the absolute worst, the ultimate worst. The worst that everyone prays they don't experience.

And here she was, experiencing it. _Life experience_, they say. Live it up. Embrace it. It makes you who you are.

Ridiculous.

Her life experience _stole_ who she was. It ruined who she was. She didn't believe any of their one-off, feel-better one liners. She hated life experience if it meant she felt like this. She felt robbed; robbed of her heart, robbed of her adolescence, robbed of a healthy future love life, robbed of her sanity, robbed of emotion and happiness, of laughter, of peaceful days, of light kisses, and hazel eyes.

She found herself broke, completely, in every sense and definition of the word. Ripped apart from the inside out, devoid of worth, and empty, she was a shell of her former self.

A Rachel Berry shell: it was the saddest thing she'd ever seen. And the day she realized it was the day she stopped looking. She took down the mirrors in her room. She closed her eyes when she entered bathrooms. The sound of a locked stall now brought her a flutter of comfort.

She knew who she'd become. And she still didn't know who to blame. Her father would say herself. Her friends would say they didn't care. Her reflection would say Quinn. And the blonde wouldn't say anything.

They didn't speak. She was only seventeen and didn't know what that meant. She didn't know if this was for the best or not. Every word not uttered tore her further down. Every glance returned or ignored begged for a spoken explanation of why and what and how. None of it came.

Her singing voice eluded her, by choice or not she didn't know. She wouldn't lie and say the other kids were worried about her. They adored the spotlight they'd gained six months ago when she unceremoniously dropped out of life like she never mattered to begin with. There was no choice in the matter.

Moments of their past haunted her. She loathed the back of her eyelids. She loathed her dreams. She loathed photographs, Facebook, Twitter, notes, cards, yearbooks, and the box marked Q in her closet. These things held history. They flaunted it right in front of her face and pretended like it didn't matter.

And as she sat down in second period, in the back corner of the room she dreaded most, the memory of the day it all changed came flooding back to her. Her eyes fell on her old desk across the room: empty, just like her. This classroom, that desk, and a stupid blonde: they changed everything.

She wore a blue cardigan that day two and a half years ago. She felt different. She felt pretty. She felt confident. When the blonde approached her at her usual desk, _that_ desk, she was pondering over the fact that today, _that_ day, just might be a good one from start to finish. It was rare, so the thought made her grin.

And as Quinn approached her, the brunette still grinning, Rachel felt life change. She felt it roll over her like the wind switching gears.

Quinn crouched in the narrow row beside her, wrapped her right hand around the metal pole of Rachel's chair frame and laid her eyes upon the grinning girl beside her. That grin dissolved to intimate fear laced with a funny curiosity right before Quinn's eyes and Rachel tried to hide it.

A shaky breath escaped her with an emotional ruckus left in its wake and the quiet, warm proximity of the blonde's hand sliding up to settle on Rachel's knee told her they just took flight with that new wind.

There was no stopping them. It unleashed a feeling inside Rachel she'd never felt before. Her heart ripped open and an ocean fell out, drowning every confusing, questioning thought swimming around her pretty head.

That's how she knew.

Most people saw their lives flash before their eyes when they were about to die; Rachel saw hers flash the moment she started living. Every previous platonic interaction with the blonde came rushing back, drawing a perfect design to how they got to that moment with Quinn crouched beside her, vulnerable and unguarded. It was written all over her.

It was practically draining from her eyes, from the corner twitch of her lips to the barely-there, reassuring squeeze to Rachel's knee. She could have been holding a sign that said, "Hi, I'm a new Quinn," and it would've been less obvious.

Again, that's how Rachel knew something was different.

It all changed that day.

And as she thought over the memory, she couldn't remember what she had expected to leave Quinn's mouth first in that moment. She only remembered seeing Quinn's jeans pulled tight over her bent legs. She remembered thinking how casual the blonde looked out of her Cheerios uniform. She remembered smiling at the thought of _this _Quinn. She remembered losing her breath when the blonde's small, nervous quirk of a smile turned scared, her eyes falling between her knees before slowly drawing back up to meet Rachel's.

And then she took a revealing deep breath, laying herself out for Rachel to see. What she was seeing though, she still didn't know. She just knew she liked it, loved it, wanted to drink it.

Rachel giggled at the memory, fondling remembering how she'd pinched her wrist in her own lap to make sure it wasn't a dream. She had glanced over her shoulder to look for any piece of subterfuge carrying a slushie. That's when Quinn's left hand switched from lightly squeezing her knee to _caressing_ it simply to calm her twitches. It caused steady warmth to flow up the seated girl, over her beating heart and racing pulse.

Quinn's lips finally parted and she spoke, slicing the unbearable tension she'd built with a simple glance and hand to Rachel's knee.

"Are you busy tonight?"

The silent beat that followed felt like years to the girls. The pendulum rocked back and forth before Quinn's eyes twitched away. Rachel missed their beauty already. And as she gulped, she found herself begging for them to return because she had no idea what was happening, but somehow those eyes anchored her.

So when they did return, stoic and confident, she shivered and did the only thing she could remember how to do: ramble, minus its usual speed and intensity. She couldn't muster up anything but a slow, drawling murmur.

"Define busy… because I keep a very… strenuous, um schedule. It's important, they, they say, in a life based around-"

"I want you to come over to my house. Would you like to? My mom picks me up at four by the field. You could ride with us."

Rachel remembered losing her words at that. She lost_ all_ of them. She had no idea what was going on and yet she remembered not caring as long as those eyes stayed with her. With her own innocent brown eyes blown wide, she could only nod her answer.

"Really?" Quinn asked as her face lit up from the inside out for the very first time.

"Yes. But, but why?"

"You can ask all the questions you want later. I'm sure you'll have many," she replied with a grin, a lovely and charming grin. And boy, that's when Rachel _definitely_ knew, yet had no idea.

But she was lit up _because_ of Rachel. It was a look the brunette would soon fall for. It was a look that would diminish all her defenses, walls, and reservations. It would cause revelations, self-discovery, and declarations. It would steal kisses, first times, and hearts.

And then its disappearance would shatter her. It was a look she hadn't seen in months, six to be exact. That void carved itself out perfectly within her and she was used to feeling its hollow shell.

Yes, things were very different now, fully unrecognizable.

She brought herself back to her present _nothing_ and looked over to the empty desk in the corner, her arms wrapping tightly around her stomach in reflex as her eyes fell shut to will away the tears. She begged them to spare her this period. Spare her one hour, _please_. She needed that hour. The edge of the cliff felt closer each day. She so desperately needed that hour.

With deep breaths and calming fingertips stroking over each elbow, she gathered herself and then forced her eyes back open. They immediately fell on none other than her most-beloved and most-dreaded vision: Quinn Fabray.

She stood across the room, sullen eyes on Rachel and hands at her sides with a messenger bag flung across her torso. Those foreign eyes bore into her as she froze. She felt the tears. She felt the edge. She felt the void inside echoing the deep rasps of her taut breathing.

And yet she couldn't turn away. It would kill her not to, but she couldn't. She looked deeply, digging for anything that told her she still _knew_ Quinn. The eyes didn't look the same. The stance didn't seem the same. The near invisible, helpless and hopeless smile that graced the edge of her lips right then even seemed foreign.

_Her_ Quinn was gone. Gone where, Rachel always wondered. How far away? Could she visit? _Would_ she visit?

And then the new Quinn was gone, shuffling into the desk beside _their_ desk. Rachel thought she saw those stranger eyes flicker to it for half a second, but it'd been weeks since she trusted anything she thought she saw. Everything swirled around her and she lost herself more and more on a daily basis. She'd proven herself wrong far too many publicly humiliating times in the past six months.

So she stopped trying.

She was almost eighteen for crying out loud.

She locked her eyes on the board at the front of the class and willed the hour to pass quickly. With second period down, all she would have to worry about is fourth period, and then glee, and then tomorrow, and then the next day, and then graduation in three weeks, and then _life_.

Because what the hell was it coming to? What the hell happened to them? Where was her Quinn? How did it get to this? When would she stop crying, aching, and dying inside? What would it take? God, _what_ would it take?


	3. Chapter 2 HS Sophomore Year March

March - High School Sophomore Year

_Make a U-Turn_

The excitement over finally growing a pair still rushed through Quinn as she pranced up the stairs to her bedroom with Rachel in tow. Her fingers were laced tightly around the brunette's wrist and it felt even more perfect than she imagined, even if she was practically dragging the girl up to her bedroom.

The door shut behind them and the pep in Quinn's step as she crossed the room was unmistakable. Rachel fluttered to a stop near the door and let her eyes take in the blonde and her humble abode. It was nothing like Rachel pictured. Something about Quinn's past doings made Rachel think the room would be laced with demon art and those, those hate-speech posters, ones with like, Hitler and stuff. She pictured the pig's blood dropping on her head, students laughing and Quinn shouting, "Gotcha!" as Rachel crawled into a fetal position and _died_.

A shiver shot down her back.

"Quinn?" she mumbled, her hands nervously clasping onto themselves in front of her. She released them, smoothed down her skirt, and then clasped them again before squeezing a tremble away. Quinn turned around and that peppy smiled faltered. Her hands stopped their meanderings on her laptop and she turned fully to face Rachel, reading the slowly fearful girl.

This wasn't going to be as easy as she first thought. Quinn took a slight breath and a few steps forward, Rachel automatically stepping a few steps back. It wrenched Quinn's heart in a vice hold.

"It's okay. You can relax. I'm not going to hurt you. I know it seems ironic to say this, but trust me on that, okay?"

"I don't understand," Rachel trembled.

"Okay. I get that. That's okay," she accepted with a nod and walked to sit on the edge of her bed facing Rachel. She knew this would be a tricky first step. She predicted that she'd have to practically beg the girl, reassure her and hold her hand, but what she didn't expect was the genuine look of fear on Rachel's face. That look was disarming, confidence-shattering, even.

Quinn settled onto her bed, steeled herself and let comforting eyes fall on Rachel. "Let's talk about it. We can talk, right?"

Rachel shifted her weight uncomfortably at the question, her twitchy eyes hitting the floor, a frame, the bookshelf, the bed, Quinn, the wall, her hands, and the wall again before pulling back to the blonde. Quinn gulped and Rachel finally found her words.

"That's the thing, really. I know in class today I agreed to come here, but um, I don't even know what to talk about or what's happening, why I'm here, if, if the world is ending. I- I have no problem talking, clearly, it's one of my best attributes, but right now, I don't know what words to say or where to start or why I'm here. God, what am I doing here?" she stuttered out and wiped a clammy hand across her sweating forehead before reaching out to touch the wall, thankful it was still there, sturdier than she. Her hands returned to each other and grasped tighter.

Quinn's light, appreciative eyes watched it all happen. She wanted to smile, to swoon, to wrap the girl in her arms, but it stung her heart to see how scared Rachel was just from being there in her room. All of her past actions filled her heart with regret and she momentarily forgot the next step in her plan that she had decided to take to mend them, make up for them, and negate them.

"I've thought about what to say right now more times than I can count," she started with a shaky breath. Rachel's twitchy eyes finally snapped on to hers and held for dear life. "I've yet to come up with something worthy of the moment."

"The moment?"

"Maybe I need to back up," she spouted in a breath and ran her fingers through her hair.

"Okay."

"Do you hate me for what I used to do to you?"

"What? No!" Rachel gasped and shot forward before catching herself. Quinn's heart fluttered with hope. "Of course I don't hate you. How could you ask me that? That's preposterous and insulting, Quinn."

"_That's_ what I'm talking about. You should hate me. You should absolutely despise me, but you don't. And you react like, like _that_ when asked why not, as if the answer is so obvious. But it's not obvious," Quinn finished and stood as Rachel's eyes burrowed in her own wandering, grey thoughts. Quinn wanted to take her hand and tell her not to attempt figuring it all out at once. "I just- what does that _mean_, Rachel?"

"What does what mean?"

"What does it mean that I could treat you so horribly and you almost have a conniption fit when I ask if you hate me for it?"

"I- I don't… I don't know."

"I do," Quinn said. "I know what it means. I know why I treated you like I did and I know why you still care. I just, I need you to see it, too."

Long, silent, and scary moments passed before Rachel's mouth parted multiple times and the words finally found themselves in a completely ungraceful fashion:

"I don't- I'm not sure what- How I'm supposed- I don't- Quinn?"

"Yeah?"

"What's happening? I need you to say more things now, really _clear_ things. Subject, verb, object things- simple style. My brain is starting to hurt," she quivered out and took a large breath. Quinn raised both hands in mock surrender to calm the shivering girl and reached one towards her, palm out, offering a little help, a little everything.

"Come here. Please? You're shaking. Just come sit. And we'll keep talking, simple grammar style," she assured her with_ that_ smile, that _lit up because of Rachel Berry_ smile. The brunette's eyes landed on the outstretched hand before her and then peeled back up to Quinn's. Those hazel safe havens saved her and simultaneously ripped her open once again. They brought all the answers Quinn's mouth couldn't seem to voice as clearly as she needed. They looked at her like no friend had ever looked at her. They were flat pleading, begging, adoring.

The heat Rachel felt in the classroom six hours earlier rushed back over her and the light bulb in her head went off like a firework.

_That's_ what was happening, Rachel realized.

Quinn stood there, smiling at her with a hand stretched out, offering something she'd never offered before, relaxed in her jeans and loose tank, looking like something she never was; this Quinn was something Rachel never knew before today.

Another light exploded. Quinn said she knew what it-

_Oh._

"Oh," Rachel muttered. Quinn's smile drooped off, her eyes widened a bit and her hand slid down and away from between them, landing to burrow tightly in her pocket. The other joined it. And then her eyes found the floor. All that torment simply because Quinn had, Quinn had… "Quinn," Rachel breathed, expelling and sharing all her new knowledge in one simple utterance.

The blonde shuddered and then cursed herself for her inaction. Rachel wasn't supposed to scrounge her thoughts and figure this out piece by piece. Quinn was supposed to march her up there, take her hand, shout her feelings and kiss the girl. Two years of repression turned into six months of self discovery and this was her moment. She was utterly blowing it, filleted open while Rachel read her like a book.

"You like… girls?" Rachel whispered, a bit curious and a bit confused, while her trembling hands finally came to a halt in front of her. Quinn looked up to see fully aware eyes staring back at her. They were waiting, but they knew. "Do you? Do you like girls?"

"I like _you_."

The confession hung in the air between them. Quinn prayed Rachel would reveal herself in an arched eyebrow, a smile, or an eye twitch like normal, like always. But Rachel only stood there, letting it all roll over her, again, and again, and more. Her heart pounded out of her chest, deafening her ears. It couldn't be. Quinn _liked_ her?

"Me?"

"Yes."

"But I'm, I'm Rachel Berry," she whimpered out and it sliced Quinn's heart in two. Her legs whipped to her rescue and she was standing directly in front of the girl before she knew it. Leave it to Rachel to find more shock in the fact that Quinn liked _her_ and not in Quinn liking women. It embodied one of Rachel's greatest qualities.

Quinn's hands pulled up to move in around Rachel's cheeks before they stopped scared and retreated back to her own sides. She took a steadying breath and locked confident, sure eyes on Rachel's before she decided to respond. She needed this point to be driven home for the sake of their future- if they were to have one.

"Exactly. You're Rachel Berry."

It was music to the brunette's ears. She gulped, choked out a shy giggle and tucked a stray hair back. That embarrassed, shy smile lit Quinn again. She beamed and tucked another stray hair behind Rachel's other ear and the brunette's eyes fluttered shut at the touch. She was fifteen and had never felt such an intimate brush of skin against her own. It was new, electrifying, and terrifying.

She never knew she was waiting for it. She never knew she was craving it. She never knew, not anything really, not until Quinn. It brushed over the curve of her ear and lit every nerve throughout her body like one glorious domino effect screaming, "Look what you were waiting for!"

When it hit Rachel's toes, she released a sigh along with the past two years of torment. She released it all. Quinn felt it. And not waiting for Rachel's eyes to flutter back open, she leaned in and pressed her lips to the girl's. Stock-still except for the earthquake pounding through them, neither girl could find a thought to direct something more.

Rachel inhaled deeply through her nose, needing to steady the shocks pulsing through her as Quinn pushed a bit harder against her mouth, effectively taking her first kiss. Questions raced through Rachel's mind faster than she could sort them. What was happening? God, what was happening?

The feeling of those still lips pressed against hers unleashed something in her, again. And she had no idea what it meant or what it was. Her shaking hands wanted to rise up, dig into the blonde's hair, open her mouth and kiss her like she was bursting to, but they didn't know how.

She was _fifteen_. She'd never felt lips on her own, much less the perfect pair under the perfect pretenses attached the perfect girl _who she'd never looked at before_. God! She couldn't think of what to do next. She couldn't picture a movie to reference. She couldn't conjure up a show to emulate.

She couldn't breathe, remember her name, or much less how to _act_. So she stood and she let it happen to her. She let Quinn happen to her.

And happen it did; the blonde started pulling her lips over Rachel's. She could feel the smaller girl's pulse racing under her fingertips on her neck. She could hear the ragged breaths coming from her nose. She could feel Rachel's hands twitching at their sides, wondering what to do and where to go and how to touch.

Quinn slowed her kisses to almost a crawl. Her own heart pounded in her ears and then she cracked her eyes open as she kissed that top lip, then the bottom, and then took a nip. She saw Rachel's eyes fluttering behind their lids. Quinn put all of her harbored feelings behind each slow, pressing kiss, hoping it'd hit Rachel over the head and pierce her through the heart. But the girl just stood there, arms confused, shoulders shaking, chest heaving, lips still.

Quinn's eyes slid shut again and she tightened her fingers around each side of Rachel's neck, pulling her closer, tighter, almost inside her.

"Rach," she breathed out between long, purposeful kisses and pulls to the girl's beautiful lips. The lips she'd wanted to kiss for six months after she realized what her intense feelings for the brunette _actually _meant. Oh, she definitely knew. "Rach, _kiss_ me," she begged, tilted her head to fully lock onto the girl and held it. She'd hold it until Rachel felt it, whether through feelings or lack of oxygen, Quinn didn't care.

It pulsed heavily through the smaller girl until the gates finally poured open and snapped her inabilities in half. A third light bulb exploded inside, taking her thoughts from one slow realization after the next into a full blown light show, a celebration, the fourth of freaking July.

Quinn was kissing her, _that's_ what was happening! And boy, she was seriously kissing her. _She could do this. _She could kiss._ Rachel Berry _could do anything- even get the girl, apparently.

Her narcissism ignited at that realization and shot new tingles further south than she'd ever felt. Rachel gasped for air, ending Quinn's assault. She could definitely do this. And she would.

She moaned into Quinn and walked her into their sturdy friend, the wall. She knew he would come in handy the second she walked into that room. She just didn't know it would be like this. She moved into the kiss, tentatively parting her lips to meld with Quinn's. It caused a domino effect of eagerness in the blonde: gripping fingers, shifting feet, and tightening cheeks.

Oh yes, Rachel learned how to kiss and quickly; she had no choice in the matter. She wanted to feel and taste all of the girl's lips and, and inside them. Her hands shook at the thought, but boy she wanted to feel that eagerness and want again. And each time their mouths parted, Rachel almost took the leap, but settled for nibbling a lip instead. She nibbled and kissed like her life depended on it, maybe it did, just waiting for the moment her first kiss fears would fully die and she could do everything she was imagining in her head, just like the superstar she was.

God, why was there no manual for this? Why had Rachel not done research? Why did she not freaking _know_? She could've prepared. She could've been better, the best, for Quinn.

Releasing Rachel's neck to wrap her arms fully around it, Quinn brought their bodies together. Her arms circled tighter and tighter and she couldn't believe her luck when those adorably feminine hands circled around her own waist in return, pulling her unbearably closer. When their small breasts met each other, Rachel never looked back. That feeling right there was all she needed.

She wanted it and would take it. She pulled the girl tighter, parted those lips, and slid her tongue inside.

Sounds started to pour out of Quinn's mouth as Rachel felt around the sweet, wet warmth and the blonde failed to stop them. She groaned as their tongues danced and embarrassment flooded her cheeks, but Rachel only kissed her deeper, letting the noises spur her on and releasing her own muffled pants in return.

Quinn couldn't believe this was happening. Rachel was perfect, better than she always dreamed, and in every way. Quinn clenched her fingers in silky brown hair and her toes curled at the need pulsing through her. She kissed Rachel impatiently, wanting to feel every bit of her right that second.

Her whimpers grew louder and she found herself pinching her teary eyes tighter. She craved for a slight inkling of control or, or she'd never look back. She would tumble, giving everything to this girl in an instant. She couldn't go there, not yet. She could keep steady. She would. She had to. She reined herself in, grasped the control and held it.

But then Rachel sighed into her, releasing a hum of pure joy and heaven and like she'd just found _home_.

And instead, Quinn unraveled around her.

It was happening. It was all happening and nothing would stop it.

She was perfect, beautiful and astounding: Rachel freaking Berry.


	4. Chapter 3 HS Senior Year May

**May - High School Senior Year**

_Should we stop and ask someone?_

Two weeks until high school graduation and Quinn still couldn't wrap her head around it. She figured it would be very different than it was. She would be partying with the Glee kids. She would be planning with Rachel. She would be buying things for her new dorm with excitement, not dreading it.

She would be out somewhere, celebrating, and not sitting at their dining table with her mother staring at her like she was a zombie.

But alas, life was full of surprises.

"Quinn, honey," her mom started, just like every night for the past three weeks. The concern continued to grow tenfold. First, it started with shock and respect; she'd given Quinn her space. Then it transitioned to worry and meddling; she'd called Hiram Berry, part one of the Berrymen- as Quinn called them- and quizzed him right and left. After that, when Quinn blew up at her, it morphed into fear and reluctance.

Quinn had literally watched the grief process for her own relationship manifest itself on her mother's face over the past six months. Hell, it kept her on track with what she was supposed to be feeling at what time in the so-called process.

But now, graduation was two weeks away, which meant Rachel Berry was three weeks away from leaving her life completely, which also meant Code Red in her mother's mind. Code freaking red and Quinn was just about tired of it.

"What, Mom?" she muttered and pushed a few potatoes around her plate. Her mother eyed them and the abundance of other food being pushed around the same plate.

"No appetite again?"

"Just not hungry," she responded without an ounce of tone that meant the door was still open on that topic. Her mother pursed her lips and nodded her head. Quinn forced a potato into her mouth just to get that look to go away.

"Maybe we can go to breakfast in the morning. It's Saturday. Would you like that? Chocolate chip pancakes?" she offered with a hopeful smile.

"Mom, I haven't had chocolate chip pancakes since I was eleven."

"Then it will be a fun blast to the past! Don't you think? You love them!"

"I guess." She flicked a piece of chicken across her plate and her eyes defocused, landing somewhere in the middle of the table. The image of Rachel in second period flooded back over her for the hundredth time that day. The girl had clenched her arms around herself in such pain. Quinn knew it was due to her. It always was, just like it was always Rachel for Quinn. She wanted to march across the room, wrap her in a hug, cry with her, and sleep so it would all go away.

But her feet took her to her desk instead, her desk next to _that_ desk to her right. It sat between her and the wall, leaving them lonely together. It smacked Quinn in the face daily, so often in fact that she learned to cry out of only her right eye. Maybe her left was just tired. Maybe it'd run out of tears. Who knew?

Judy took in her lifeless daughter before her, begging God above to send her Little Quinnie back. She'd exhausted her ideas, books' ideas, therapists' ideas, Rachel's father's ideas, and Russell's ideas. Nothing fixed the broken Quinn, nothing at all. She watched the miniature version of herself stare off into space, absent mindedly pushing her food around. Those formerly bright eyes stayed frowned and reddened and Judy found herself curious, yet again.

"Quinn, honey."

"Hm?"

"What are you thinking about?"

"What I'm always thinking about, Mom," she muttered. Judy took a deep, sullen breath and raked her eyes over her daughter's still-despondent face.

"How about you tell me about it this time?" she pushed. Quinn brought her red eyes up to her mother's and debated how to proceed. Her usual, knee-jerk response was always _not today_. Not today, not tomorrow, not ever. Quinn liked to pretend nothing was happening anywhere ever. It helped her put Rachel Berry in a box with everything else in the world if nothing was happening across the board. Rachel wasn't happening. Life wasn't happening. Nothing was happening.

But after seeing Rachel practically curling into herself to avoid crying in second period, something changed. Unsure what exactly that was, Quinn felt a small click, as if the just bearable unbearable constant pain they felt had notched up into the "too much" territory.

She could see Rachel drowning. And it hurt.

It hurt more than normal.

"Quinn?" her mother pushed again. And to Quinn's surprise, something inside her thanked her mother for being persistent.

"I saw Rachel today," she whispered, immediately clearing her throat afterward. The illusion of control was not missed by her mother.

"Don't you see her every day, honey?"

"Yeah. Yes, ma'am. It was- it was different today."

"Good different?"

"Yeah, _good_ different. That's why I'm sitting here pushing chicken across my plate and trying not to vomit."

"Sorry. Stupid question," Judy apologized with a twitch. Quinn sighed and steadied herself.

"I didn't mean to snap at you. Sorry."

"Just keep talking, okay? Where did you see her?" she carefully asked and refilled Quinn's water from the glass pitcher on the table.

"Second period."

"Math. Right. Well… what, what happened? How was it different? Did you talk?"

"No. I still can't talk to her."

"It's been months, Quinnie."

"And I still don't forgive myself."

"You don't have _anything_ to forgive yourself for," she pleaded and reached a hand across the table to grip her daughter's.

"I do. I _ruined_ it."

"But you also startedit all. Your bravery started it."

"Mistake number one."

"Don't say that. You don't want to be that way. Rachel wouldn't want you to be that way," she enforced with a stern grip. Quinn shot her fiery eyes to her mother for daring to mention what Rachel would or wouldn't want. Her brutal tone unleashed before she could contain it.

"You don't know _anything_ about-"

"Don't you dare tell me I don't know anything about her, and you, and your relationship _with_ her. I gave you girls more effort than anything in my life because I wanted to be a part of it. Do not throw a seemingly small statement like that back in my face because it is untrue and I do not deserve it, however off-the-cuff you may think it'd be."

Quinn gulped down the rest of her statement and thanked God her mom didn't pull her hand away, instead gripped tighter. The warmth and support poured through her and she felt her daily battle with tears raging up again. She felt them start to pool as her chin took off quivering. She pulled her bottom lip in between her teeth and nodded her head slightly at her mother.

It was all the apology and show of regret Judy needed. She pushed out her chair, walked around the table and sat next to her daughter. Quinn immediately curled into her side, laying her heavy head on the shoulder that was constantly there. It took years, but it was there, steady and sure.

"You're good. You're strong. Okay?" she assured, running her palm down Quinn's hair. Her daughter took a shaky breath and nodded. "There you go. Good. So come on, tell me about class. What was different?"

"Rachel sits across the room. She used to sit beside me, but she, well she doesn't anymore obviously. When I walked in, she had her arms wrapped tightly around her waist, her head bowed and her eyes clenched tight."

"Was she crying?"

"Fighting it, I think."

"Okay."

"That's all, really. She looked up and I happened to be standing there. I try not to be. I try really hard not to get in her space or view or world or anything. I know it hurts when I'm there and noticeable. It hurts me, too. But sometimes it's unavoidable. And today, it's like it slammed into us. It caught her off guard."

"What happened?"

"She looked at me."

"Okay," Judy dragged out, trying to fill in the details on her own.

"No I mean like, she really looked at me. She hasn't done that in months. She refuses to. But she did today. And then, well it looked like someone shot her dog. She looked helpless and letdown, kind of."

"What did you do?"

"I couldn't stand it anymore, her looking at me like that. So I sat down. And then I cried because her stupid old desk still sits empty beside me."

"Weren't you going to change seats a couple months ago?"

"I never did."

"Oh," she said and squeezed her arm tightly around Quinn's shoulder. "Well, here's what I think," she paused. "Do you _want_ to know what I think?"

Quinn released a slight giggle at her mother's fears and nodded.

"Yes, please. I always care what you think. You know that."

"First, I love you for that. Just throwing that out there. You are such a good daughter."

"Mom."

"_Sorry_, I don't get these moments too often. Let me revel," she growled with a smile and Quinn smirked, following it with a sweet nod.

"I love you, too."

The grin plastered across her mother's face brought back all her comfort. She said another thankful pray for the woman cradling her and awaited advice.

"Okay. What was the first line out of your mouth when you and Rachel sat me down that Sunday afternoon after church your sophomore year?"

"When I told you about us?"

"Yes."

"Umm… gosh, I don't know. It was years ago."

"Two and it's one of the most important moments of your life! Come on, Quinn, you should remember this. What did you say?"

Quinn dug back through her brain trying to recall exactly what came out first, so to speak. She remembered trembling as they sat her mother down to tell her the news. She remembered being fearful, but hopeful that her mother loved her enough, loved Rachel enough, to not do something irrational. She remembered fearing her father's reaction most, but praying her mother could help with that later, which she had.

But how did she start? What did she say first?

"Seriously, Quinnie? You don't remember? You're teasing me, right?"

"Just give me a minute!" she retorted with a smack and a laugh.

That afternoon, she'd sat down on the couch in the study, her mother in the arm chair and Rachel to her right. Rachel's thigh was warm against hers, too warm. It made her want to take Rachel upstairs to see just how warm she could get it. She remembered blushing at the inappropriate thought when she should've been focused on coming out to her mother. Thoughts of taking Rachel to that next level were all that plagued her mind during that summer of their lives after sophomore year. She'd kissed Rachel four months earlier and the explosion never stopped. They got their licenses and would be getting cars soon. It would be even worse.

It was getting harder and harder to keep it under wraps, under control, out from under her mother's nose. It was completely overwhelm-

_Oh._ That's right. She felt the smile cross her lips and her mother leaned forward to get a glance at her face, the smile apparently contagious as it splayed over Judy's as well.

"You remember."

"I do."

"So tell me. What did you say?" Quinn's chin picked back up and her eyes flooded for the second time. She gulped back the sobs and smiled at her mother.

"I said, 'Mom, have you felt something so overwhelmingly right that it feels like everyday your heart could burst with love?'"Quinn finished, the last words trembling out. She swiped at her defiant eyes.

"That's the first time I ever saw you passionate. And I think that's really telling. Don't you?" Quinn could only nod. "You didn't open that conversation with, 'Please don't be ashamed of me.' You didn't say, 'You might not be happy.' You didn't apologize. You didn't falter. You gave me no room to judge because you were overflowing with happiness and love and you knew it. You knew. You knew exactly what you'd found because it felt right from the beginning and none of your fears, peers, or us as parents could argue with it."

"I know, but-"

"No. You knew. And you still know. And you're being a coward _because_ you still know. And if you don't fix it, if you don't wake up, she's going to walk away and she's not going to look back. She's meant for things, Quinn. And she _will_ go after them."

Quinn gasped at the abrupt change.

"You don't think I know that? That's what this is all about!"

"You used to think you were meant to be where she was. It's why you applied to Columbia in the first place. You got everything you wanted. Stop being a coward or everything, Rachel, all of it, was pointless, meaningless, and _worthless_."

Quinn shot forward, releasing herself from her mother's grip.

"Mom!"

"You graduate in two weeks."

"I'm aware!"

"Then grow up!"

"_Mom_!" Quinn wailed again, willing her to shut up. Her mother stood, cocked the token Fabray eyebrow and started out of the dining room. "Mom!" Nothing. "Mother! You can't say that to me! You can't say that about _her_!"

Judy padded up the carpeted stairs as her daughter wailed from the dining room. Her head shook right along with her nervous hands. She hated being the devil's advocate, but somebody had to do it. Someone had to fix her and nothing, not one of their ideas had worked yet. She didn't know if this one would either as Quinn continued to yell.

"I make my own choices! It's over! You need to accept it! I am a grown woman! I, I, I make my _own_ choices!" Judy shook her head again, turning the corner into her bedroom. "This is MY life!"

"So you got her to scream, at least," Russell muttered from the desk in the corner.

"I figure it's a change, right? We'll see if it's positive or negative."

"What happened?" he asked as Quinn continued screaming in the background downstairs.

"She's scared."

"Of?"

"That's she hurt Rachel beyond recovery. I think that's one extra layer of guilt she can't handle. The last straw, if you will."

"And what do you think about all this now?"

"I think they've both lost themselves and a time when they're supposed to be finding themselves," she answered and ran her hands over her husband's shoulders, massaging lightly. "Rachel's not attending the summer program anymore."

"Is she still going in the fall? Does Quinn know?"

"He assumes she'll go. Well, he hopes. And no, Quinn doesn't know."

"It's Juilliard. Hiram should force her."

"She's not singing, Russ. You can't force a girl to go to a music school when she won't sing."

"She'll be fine when she gets there."

"Will she?"

His eyes met his fearful wife's and she arched a sad, questioning eyebrow. They had no idea what the future held for their daughter and her ex. It used to be bright. They had plans. They were happy. And then it crashed. They still didn't understand why and Quinn wouldn't talk about it. And Rachel would only give her dad a few syllables here or there on the matter. As a parental team, they were incredibly in the dark. Russell was never in the dark. It drove him crazy that he could only stand by and watch his daughter flounder.

She had promise, still did. But he was watching it drain away right before his eyes and because of a situation he still worked to understand. He tried, he tried very hard. And to see it implode into this, it was too much. As his attention turned to the open door where sounds of Quinn wailing wafted in, he found himself with no lifeline or clue.

They were utterly helpless. And Judy's new solution was to rile her up. He could only pray it worked to deter their current path. Otherwise, his daughter would be heading to community college in Lima Heights instead of acting on her acceptance to one of the nation's top schools.

That, he knew, was unacceptable.

He jerked his head toward the door and Judy shrugged.

"She started this passionate. Maybe she can find her way back this passionate," his wife justified.

"She's screaming like a seven year old."

"All the more reason to think it's working. Yesterday, she was practically mute. I'm calling this progress," she voiced with a smile.

They listened to Quinn hurling insults and demands and proclamations at them up the stairs. He shook his head and turned back around in his chair. She would either calm down, returning mute, or she'd take that fire to Rachel. Either way, they weren't regressing.

"What exactly set her off?" he asked as Judy stretched out on the bed and flicked on the TV to drown out their daughter.

"I used the words 'Rachel' and 'worthless' in the same sentence," she smirked. Russell chuckled and grinned affectionately.

"That'll do it, Judy."

"Yep. That will definitely do it."


	5. Chapter 4 HS Sophomore Year May

**May - High School Sophomore Year**

_Just Roll the Windows Down and Smile_

"It's my turn, it's my turn!" Rachel squealed, ripped the magazine out of Quinn's hands and laid back into the plush grass. Quinn chuckled and lolled her head to the right, letting it edge up against Rachel's. Her blonde hair wisped against Rachel's cheek and the brunette, on reflex, twirled it around a finger.

The sky shined a perfect blue that afternoon. School let out yesterday for the summer and the girls couldn't wait to start the celebration. They piled onto Quinn's four-wheeler and tore to the park where they currently spilled out in the grass, eyes cloud-gazing and hearts racing.

They always raced. They'd been racing for two months ever since Quinn's bedroom. Their first kiss merged with their second, third, fourth, sixtieth. They'd kissed for hours. What started up against the wall inevitably moved to Quinn's two chairs, then one chair, then the floor, and finally the bed. Their hands stayed innocently attached to shoulders, arms, hips, and waists, just as their lips stayed locked to each others.

It was a perfect afternoon of pure innocence. And most afternoons after that one carried on the same way. They stole kisses at school when they could in bathrooms, empty locker rooms, behind dumpsters, around porta-potties, under the bleachers. They could barely detach themselves to actually attend classes.

It was torture. And now it was over.

Rachel's right fingers mindlessly traced over Quinn's left ones in the grass between them. Each tickle sent goose bumps up the blonde's arm and over her collarbone. It tugged her smile further which each mindless touch because it meant Rachel couldn't help herself.

Quinn couldn't remember another time when she was this happy. She rolled her head to the side to gaze upon the girl to blame. The wind made her side bangs dance as she gleefully read out the next question on the Cosmo quiz. Her voice eluded Quinn.

She couldn't take her hazel eyes off the girl, those light rosy cheeks and slight dimples wrecking her every time she looked. When had she gotten so lucky? But here she was, able to love on the only girl she ever wanted to love. It's like when you watch a perfect hour of television and you never want to turn it on again.

She wondered how life would top this as she took in every curve and chisel of Rachel's face. Her cute little red butterfly earrings shined in the sunlight. And her beautiful voice wafted up into the wind to fly away with the birds. She released a giggle at the question she'd just read, but Quinn was still lost in her hazy bubble of affection. That giggle sent her own little butterflies running amuck inside Quinn's stomach. She grabbed her cell phone, brought it north and snapped a photo of her.

After, she curled her fingers around Rachel's and rolled to her side, her left arm falling over the girl's waist and her face settling in Rachel's neck, their clasped hands pinned tight between them. Rachel stuttered at the move and eventually stopped reading when Quinn's lips pressed softly to her cheek. Rachel craned her head back and to the left, finally landing her gaze on Quinn.

"Do you not want to do the quiz anymore?"

Quinn simply leaned in and placed a small kiss to Rachel's neck before settling back to look her squarely in the eyes, a small smile pulling slowly at her lips.

"Are you alright?" Rachel asked. "You look all… dreamy like. And we're trying to figure out if we're _Oversharers or Mysterious_ here, Quinn. This is serious Cosmo business! We're only on number two. I'll read it again. Pay attention. 'On a typical day, how often do you touch base with your guy- er, girl?_' _They should really make these pronouns gender neutral."

"First, it's a magazine for straight women. Second, we already know I'm mysterious and you're the oversharer. Third, dreamy like, huh?" Quinn bounced her eyebrows and Rachel scoffed.

"I'm not going to dignify any of that with a response, but yes. Dreamy like. Like…" Rachel started before stopping herself.

"Like what, Rach?"

"Like you're drunk on happiness or something," she laughed. "Even your eyes are half lidded. Maybe you're stoned? Are you stoned, Quinn?" she smirked.

"No, not stoned. As for drunk on happiness…" she purred and placed another kiss to Rachel's neck.

"We're done with the quiz," she responded, not even bothering to add the question mark inflection as the magazine fell to the grass beside them.

"Yes, Rach, we're done with the quiz," she replied and tightened her hold around the girl's waist, pulling Rachel on to her side a bit. Rachel fell into those anchoring eyes once again and the world vanished.

Rachel released a content sigh, let her eyes flutter shut and pressed her lips to Quinn's. The summer wind and heat swirled around them. Trees swayed in the breeze, birds chirped, and dogs barked playfully by the lake across the field. Rachel even found happiness in the bee landing on her bare knee. Her lips danced and pulled with Quinn's, chaste and sweet.

When they parted, Rachel's head settled on the grass, tickling her ear and cheek. Quinn shivered at the same feeling and they shared a giggle, a breath, and a smile. Rachel pushed forward an inch and placed a kiss on the girl's nose before settling back down, her eyes closing and the serene perfection falling over her.

Quinn raked her gaze over the gorgeous face in front of her. Rachel couldn't look more content if she tried. She leaned forward and placed a light kiss to her forehead and settled back down just as the other girl had, her eyes falling shut as well.

She could hear each breath Rachel took, their air mixing between them. It'd been two months since this started. Two months and they'd managed to find their utopia within each other. Rachel would turn sixteen in two days. She would officially be allowed to date, according to the Berrymen's laws of life.

For a week, Quinn wanted to broach the topic. Technically, they were already dating. They made out, they had dinner, they held hands- but all in private. Not that Quinn wanted to out them, that would come later and her mother would be the first told, but she wanted it official. She needed it official.

Her mind was one slip away from uttering three words she was too scared to put together without making things official. Somehow, official meant protection in Quinn's mind. As if Quinn could utter those three words while official and not encounter the same risks when they weren't.

Regardless of the bogus thought process, she needed assurance and she wanted a future. She wanted Rachel, for good. And as they lied in each other's arms in the middle of the field, the world screaming its own happiness back at them, she couldn't think of a better time. She would do it. She would ask Rachel now. She would man up and-

"Quinn?" the girl in her arms interjected softly, throwing Quinn's thought process for a loop. The blonde peeled her eyes open to look into Rachel's, but found them still closed. She let hers flutter back together and pulled Rachel closer into her. Their legs intertwined and she could feel Rachel's smile against her cheek. The proximity was delicious.

"Yeah?"

"Do you think life could always be like this?" she breathed against porcelain skin. "I know we're young and we have no problems or responsibilities, but, but do you think if two people have what we have that it can make life simple?"

"You mean like The Beatles said?" Quinn smiled and Rachel joined her.

"All you need is love," they whispered together. She felt Rachel sigh into her and her right arm looped up and around Quinn's hip, pulling her closer.

"I could, you know," Rachel barely whispered and it danced against her cheek.

"Could what, Rach?" she murmured. She felt Rachel's head pull back and away. Quinn opened her eyes at the loss of contact and fell upon Rachel's, heavy and loaded.

"Love you," she stated, firmly and surely. It was the best Rachel could do. Adding the "I" was a step too difficult. Quinn gulped, swallowing those three words sitting on the tip of her tongue. It was too soon, it was too much, it was too scary. Rachel read her, again, like Quinn was her favorite book, and leaned it to press an assuring kiss to her lips. It's exactly what Quinn needed: a reason not to speak.

When Rachel pulled away, Quinn pushed forward, capturing them again. She poured those three words into the kiss, over and over again, because if she stopped, she'd say them out loud.

And she couldn't say them out loud.

Rachel broke the kiss again and Quinn started it over. She pushed forward, rolling halfway onto the bubbly brunette in front of her. Rachel released a lovable giggle and detached her arms from Quinn's to wrap them fully around the neck she had come to love. Quinn's found Rachel's hips and pinned them tight against her own.

She kissed her, again and again. She couldn't stop. She'd burst with confessions if she did and Rachel was all too pleased to continue. Their mouths opened and their tongues slid against each other, Quinn telling her those three words in yet another way. She caressed her girl's wondrous tongue, almost worshipped it even. She couldn't taste it enough and eventually it left Rachel gasping for air and craning away from the blonde.

"Baby…" Rachel hissed out, for the first time ever. It stilled Quinn to her core and her aftershocks then stilled Rachel.

Their eyes met. Their chests panted. Their lips were swollen, Rachel's light red chapstick smearing a faint hue all around her mouth. Rachel bore into Quinn's now black eyes, feeling them anchor her even tighter than the regular hazel.

Her hands found Quinn's face, thumbs tracing her cheek bones, her jaw line, and her lips. She'd never said baby before. She didn't know what to follow it with. She didn't know what it meant. She didn't know if it's what caused those gorgeous eyes to go black. God, she didn't know anything anymore.

And it felt wonderful.

The token, gigantic, Rachel Berry smiled graced her lips and Quinn's heart split in two as her mouth dropped open, ready to fling those three beautiful words at the girl semi below her.

But then Rachel leaned up, huge smile intact, and captured Quinn in another kiss. She controlled it this time. She took Quinn's mouth for all it could handle and then some, pulling the girl all the way on top of her in the meantime. Their hips slid together deliciously, their chests pressed tightly and their arms tangled around their necks. Quinn slipped hers under Rachel's head to cradle it in the grass as the diva took her.

All of her.

And as Rachel's hips rolled north, it was Quinn who gasped for air this time and arched away. Her eyes ripped open and found Rachel panting hotly beneath her. That tongue was playing with her lips and teeth like it just needed to keep touching something.

Quinn tore her eyes right and then left, looking for any voyeurs in the park who might happen to find them interesting. No one was close enough to see details and even less seemed to care enough to try. She locked her gaze back on the grinning girl below her and couldn't contain her smirk.

"You're going to get us in trouble," Quinn breathed and settled back down on Rachel.

"You're already in trouble," she purred and nipped at the blonde's chin, jaw, and neck. Quinn released a groan and forced herself to roll off Rachel, landing with a disappointing thud to her left. The grass felt awful and prickly compared to the silky smooth skin of the girl beside her. Rachel turned fully on her side, propped her head on her elbow and smiled at Quinn. "You know, I could easily roll on top of you right now to put us exactly back into the position we were just in."

Quinn gulped and turned to meet Rachel's gaze.

"I'm going to trust you not to."

"That's a certain type of trust you might not want to instill in me," she chuckled and leaned forward to press her lips to Quinn's ear. "When it comes to you and your body, I have no self control."

If Quinn thought she was in trouble before, she was so ignorant. Those lips found her earlobe and then her jaw and then behind her ear where her tongue joined in on the action. It sent shivers straight between Quinn's legs.

"Rach?" she gasped.

"Baby?"

"Oh god," she groaned and rolled away a few turns, effectively putting about five feet between them. Rachel erupted with laughter and pulled herself up to sit Indian style in the grass. Her perfect posture and politely clasped hands screamed proper.

"Really, Q? You're going to roll away from me? Away from, how do you always put it: the brightest star you know? With somersaults in the grass? Why, might I ask?" she giggled.

"Um, I-"

"I'm waiting."

"You're too tempting."

"Which means what exactly? You're afraid you'll have sex with me in the middle of the park if you don't stop? Seriously? Come on," she laughed. It almost irked Quinn to be laughed at, even in good fun.

"I just lose control."

"Again, you would never have sex with me in the middle of a park. We aren't even having sex in a bed yet, so you're argument is kind-"

"Of my words! I lose control of my words, okay?"

The admission ended Rachel's diatribe swiftly. Her head cocked like a pug in curiosity and her arms crossed over her chest as a smile spread. What exactly could Quinn be afraid of saying? Moaning Rachel's name? No. Her girl was too cool for that. She wouldn't care. Begging? That could be it, but even so, Quinn wouldn't beg for sex in the middle of a park. No, it was more fear based, Rachel pondered. Hmm, Rachel wondered as she stared at her.

Quinn rolled flat on her stomach and buried her face in her elbows. "Stop looking at me like that!"

Rachel released another laugh.

"I'm not looking at you like anything, silly! I'm simply trying to figure out what you're afraid to say or do or whatever."

"Yeah, whatever," she mumbled bitterly into her arms. Rachel giggled again and crawled her way over to the blonde, laying herself halfway across Quinn's back and nestling her nose in the curve of the blonde's neck.

"I'm just curious, is all. Apparently you _are_ the mysterious one," she purred and lightly threatened to tickle Quinn's sides. Her fingers playfully danced over each rib one by one on each side. "You know, my Nan used to say you could learn a lot about a person by counting their ribs," she said while adding a bit of pressure. Quinn sucked in a breath at the impending tickle. She wouldn't break, she would not break.

Rachel applied a bit more pressure and moved to the next rib.

"Hm, two…" Her right fingers mirrored the move to find another. "There's three," she cooed and dragged her fingers down the rib. Quinn shivered and bit her tongue.

"Don't you tickle me."

"I'm just counting your ribs," she scoffed and moved both fingers up on each side, digging in harder and wiggling. Quinn squirmed slightly and then sucked in more air to steel herself. "Mm, yes, there's four and five. Sturdy gals."

"Rachel. Don't. I hate being tickled."

"I hate when people don't over share," she murmured directly into Quinn's ear, adding a whole secondary layer to the tickling sensations. Her fingers jumped higher to find six and seven. Quinn's arms started shaking as she willed away the laughter. "Six and seven seem kinda jumpy. Nan would say that's typically normal and there is nothing to worry about," she stated in her best faux doctor voice and drummed all four fingers of each hand over each rib. Quinn shook hard and laughter poured out of her.

"Stop, stop, stop, stop!" she gasped between laughs and Rachel continued her assault, laughing wildly and pinning the girl harder into the grass. Quinn squirmed and spun until she freed herself out from under Rachel before she shot to her feet and shook out the tickles.

Rachel leered at the image in front of her. Quinn's hair was fussed out every which way. Grass stains and streaks plagued her light legs and cheerleading shorts. Her tank was all whoppy-jawwed around her side which let her bathing suit bikini top do most of the covering. One flip-flop stayed nestled under her left foot and the other sat about ten feet away, thrown off during her spinning escape. She was panting heavily and the decoration dog tag style necklace she wore around her neck raised and fell with each gasp for air.

Rachel couldn't resist licking her lips. She wanted to wrap herself around Quinn and do things to her, things she never thought about doing before Quinn kissed her that perfect March afternoon. Now it's all she thought about.

"Quinn," she just about moaned. The look in Rachel's eyes was not lost on the blonde. She dropped her head to take in her own appearance, the one currently making Rachel look like a cat in heat splayed across the grass in front of her. Quinn looked down at her clothes, shorts and grass stains. And where- oh, _there_ was her other sandal.

Really, she just looked messy.

But Rachel, Rachel clearly thought otherwise.

"Can you come here, please?" she asked, breaking Quinn's thoughts once again. She pulled out a finger and bent it a few times, giving the blonde a nice little come-hither calling.

"Why?" she questioned in return, still unsure this wasn't a secondary tickle attack. Rachel was known to be mischievous. This could all be a rouse.

"Because when your girlfriend beckons you, you _come_."

Quinn lost her breath.

Not only was it the sexiest thing Rachel had ever said, but she just called Quinn her girlfriend. There she went again, stealing another milestone.

"You're always taking my lines," she pouted. Rachel perked up, confused, and smiled.

"What do you mean?"

"You take away my gay confession. You take away me asking you to be my girlfriend. You steal things, Berry. You steal a lot of things," Quinn grumbled and tried brushing off her knees.

Rachel couldn't contain her grin. She pulled herself up off the grass and walked to her girlfriend, wrapping her arms around Quinn's disheveled waist. She pressed a light kiss to her pouty lips and then pulled back with the biggest glint in her eyes.

"What else have I stolen, Fabray?"

Quinn opened her mouth to respond and couldn't find her words. She'd walked herself right into that one. She had no words, none. Well, she had no acceptable words. She had three perfectly ready words sitting on the tip of her tongue, but she couldn't. She just couldn't.

So she kissed Rachel instead, again. She kissed her thoroughly and deeply, hoping to heaven that Rachel understood. When the brunette starting murmuring between kisses, she knew she was in trouble and that in fact she did understand, but she wasn't letting Quinn off the hook this time. Go figure.

"You know," kiss, "you wanna," kiss, "tell me," deep, pleading kiss. When Quinn broke for air, Rachel closed the small space between them, arched on her tippy toes and wrapped her arms around the blonde's neck, pulling her into the tightest bear hug she could muster.

Quinn trembled against her and cursed Rachel for removing her one good escape- kissing- by hugging the daylights out of her. It put her mouth right beside Rachel's ear with nowhere to go. She felt the brunette's lips on her own ear, sturdy, steady breath beating down on it.

"Say it," she whispered. Quinn took a deep breath and smirked.

"I might be in more-than-like with you."

Rachel erupted in laughter, adoration for the blonde pooling out of her as she playfully ran her fingers through Quinn's silky blonde tresses.

"You are too much," Rachel laughed.

"You are too greedy."

"There is no such thing when it comes to you. I want you always, every day, and all of you. That's not greed."

"So then what is it?" Quinn baited, turning Rachel's game around. Her eyes widened and she pulled both lips between her teeth as her cheeks flushed a dark red. She couldn't do it either.

"What if I give you back something else I stole and in return we drop the current topic? Would that work for you?" she grinned. Quinn returned it with a huge smile and laced her hands around Rachel's waist.

"Okay. Deal. Which thing are you giving back to me?"

"As of this moment, right now, I do not consider you my girlfriend. In fact," she peeled herself out of Quinn's grasp, "who are you to be touching me like this, Admirer-in-the-Park? It's inappropriate."

Quinn chuckled and shook her head.

"Admirer?"

"Mhm. I mean it's pretty obvious. You can't take your eyes off me," she taunted and sat down on the grass beside their bags.

"One would think from the moment in the grass about ten minutes ago that _you _are the one who can't keep yourself off _me_."

"That might have been true ten minutes ago because that girl was my girlfriend. I'm not afraid to show my girlfriend how much I want her. And you know what, between me and you- don't tell her this- I seriously want her. Daily. I can feel it, you know, down there. She's ridiculously sexy if I recall correctly, which I do, because I am always right."

Quinn quivered and shook her head yet again. She gave in, flopped on to her knees beside Rachel and wrapped a steady hand around the back of her neck. Rachel continued her defiance.

"I am not afraid to scream rape. Please remove yourself from me this instant or I will have my ex-girlfriend come back here and beat-"

"Shut up."

"That is not very polite!"

"Shut. Up," she groaned and pressed her lips to Rachel's. The girl fought her at first, for the sake the role, and then gave. She melted underneath Quinn's touch and kisses and soon was craning for more. Quinn broke the kiss and found Rachel's eyes.

"Be my girlfriend?"

Rachel smirked and kissed her again.

"You'd never have to ask."


	6. Chapter 5 HS Senior Year May

**May - High School Senior Year**

_Maybe If We Just Backtrack Our Turns_

Quinn stretched out in bed two hours after she finally stopped yelling at her unaffected parents. Her cell phone sat in the middle of her chest, glaring back at her, daring her. Somewhere in her tirade, her mother's words sank fully into her thick skull. She made a note to thank her tomorrow. She had typed out multiple messages to Rachel and deleted every single one.

Could she really reach out for the first time through a text? Wouldn't that be cheap? Wouldn't that be… so new school? Quinn wasn't new school, neither was Rachel. They did things like they were teens in the 1950s and they enjoyed it that way. It always made her think they had something special. Phone calls were made. Letters were written. They walked to each other's houses to ask the other out.

They just, they showed effort. Quinn loved that about them, or she used to, past tense. There was no "them" anymore.

Her mom's words echoed through head: _Rachel is meant for more. Rachel will leave here. Rachel will not look back. _

Fix it.

Fix it.

Her mother was right, after all. It was all on Quinn, it always had been.

Screw old school. She had nothing now, she could settle for new school. She picked up the phone again and typed out yet another try. Most of the buttons she pushed were letters, the others were "Delete".

Quinn cursed herself and dropped the phone back to its previous position. What would texting her even accomplish anyway?

Okay so maybe everything?

She grabbed her phone again, sped past the home screen photo of sixteen year old Rachel lying in the grass, pointing giddily at her butterfly earrings, and opened a new message.

"What to say, what to say…" she mumbled, her fingers hovering over the keys. She took a deep breath, checked the clock- 11:20pm, crap- and started her message.

**Hi. How**

After two minutes, that's all she had. Quinn huffed and ran an exasperated hand through her hair. Dammit, this was hard and it was only going to get worse. Would Rachel respond? Would she flip out? Would she be all Snarky Rachel who stung Quinn post-break-up? She sighed and started over.

**Hello. It's Quinn**.

_Great job, Q, that's much better._ What was she, a sixty year old man? Ugh. She deleted it again and thought some more. Endgame result? What did she ultimately want?

Dialogue. That's the best she could hope for, realistically, at this point. Maybe a push towards speaking in person? Okay, so with that goal, how does one open? Casually? Heavy? She groaned and folded her arm over her eyes.

This shouldn't be this hard.

Or maybe it should. How about honesty? Go with honesty. She rapidly typed out her newest idea:

**Hey. It's me. Look, I know we haven't talked in months, but I wanted to know if you were okay.**

Quinn reread it multiple times before heading towards the delete button again. She knew Rachel wasn't okay, there was no reason to pretend she didn't know that. She deleted word after word until she was satisfied. She landed with finality on the only word that would possible be okay:

**Hey.**

Okay. That's good. Short, simple, not too grand in case Rachel gets a small shock from the action. Not too vulnerable to set Quinn up for horrid failure. It's good. It's good, yeah.

Yeah.

She took a deep, shaky breath and hit send before she could change her mind. The second "Text Sent" appeared on her screen, it was like a piano dropped on her bed. She just texted Rachel, after six months, when the last words they spoke were the most vicious words she'd ever heard or said. And she goes and says, "Hey," like a jackass. Oh my god, what had she done?

Her chest heaved and she gasped out a self-loathing squawk before promptly throwing the burning phone across the room.

Get out of her sight. Disappear. Maybe it would rewind time.

God, what was she thinking? What on earth was she thinking? Rachel was going to flip the hell out. She rolled over, buried her face in her pillows and prepared for World War III.

Across the neighborhood, Rachel's phone lit up beside her on the couch in their living room. An eyebrow cocked up in curiosity. It was Friday. No one should be texting her on Friday. Her Dad, Hiram, sat down the couch from her as Patsy Cline played softly on the record player in the corner. Rachel scribbled on sheet music in her lap and her Dad read the day's paper. Friday was their night in together; it had been for years, especially this past one.

Her lack of social life throughout high school enabled the tradition to continue on for so long. When Quinn entered her life, she was perfectly content to join. Rachel's eyes bounced to the fluffy loveseat couch to her right and thought about how many nights Quinn had lain there, her feet dangled over the arm and the week's book of choice in her lap. Rachel loved to watch her read. She would catch the blonde chuckling under her breath, grinning widely, shedding random tears. She lost herself regularly in her books and Rachel loved to watch her go.

But now, the plush little couch just mocked Rachel. She could almost see Quinn's indention, she thought; if she looked hard enough.

She never wanted to look hard enough, though. Just like this afternoon, looking hard could wreck her. It had almost exploded her insides looking at Quinn like she had. No, there was no room for that. There was no room for error over the next two weeks. She could get out alive. She could avoid the cliff.

She was so, so close.

And Friday night with Dad, Patsy Cline and scribbled sheet music would help. She shook her head clear, pushed the thoughts away, grabbed her phone and read the unsaved number.

"Oh shit."

Her dad's head whipped to his right at the language and Rachel's heart stopped. Everything screeched to a halt. She'd deleted Quinn's phonebook entry months ago to avoid temptation and the occurrence at which she'd have to see her name, but she could never forget that number. Tears immediately welled in Rachel's eyes and she bolted straight up, the phone plopping back down to the couch with a thud.

Air evaded her and her chest quickly tightened in on itself. Her hands shook. Her chest heaved. Her heart pounded painfully. Her sternum actually _hurt_. She was going to vomit or suffocate and didn't know which was worse.

Oh god, her brain. She needed air!

"Honey, Rachel, you okay? What's wrong? You're white as a ghost."

She couldn't control herself. The tears flowed freely and she was soon gasping for release, fanning helpless hands in front of her face.

"Rachel!" her dad hollered, flew off the couch and knelt in front of her, his hands wrapping tightly over her knees. "What the- What- Rachel, you're having a panic attack!"

She nodded rapidly. Her mouth was pulled wide and tight, gasping for air through tears as her dad rubbed her legs slowly.

"Focus on your breathing, honey. Listen, listen to me breathe. In," he breathed, "and out. Slowly. Big breaths. Again, Rachel. Do it again. Come on, honey."

In and out, she told herself. She listened to Dad's breathing and tried her best to mimic it, forcing control over her lungs and trembling chest.

She could do this. In and out.

Slowly, with the help of her dad, she regulated her breathing and could feel herself again. Her light head felt heavy by the second and she closed her eyes to settle herself. All she could see behind her lids was that number burning bright on her screen. Rachel pulled her eyes open after a few minutes and they immediately darted down to her discarded phone.

Her dad followed the gaze and then turned back to her. He knew it had to be Quinn. What had that girl said to his daughter to cause this? He ought to give Russell a call and a piece of his mind.

"Baby girl," he whispered out.

"Yeah, yeah I'm okay now. Thanks, Dad. It was just-"

"Quinn?" Rachel's heartbeat caught in her chest and she nodded slowly. "What did she say to you? I'll go over there if you want me to."

"No, Dad. No. It was nothing like that. I don't even know what it says. I just," she trailed off, embarrassed that simply seeing the girl's number had caused that reaction. "I saw her number. And it, it…"

"I understand. Really. It's okay. I can open it and delete it for you, if you want," he offered, hoping his daughter would take him up on it. She was two weeks from graduation and needed absolutely no more distractions and obstacles on her already bumpy road back to normality.

She looked at her phone, picked it up off the couch and took in the number again. Delete or read, delete or read? If she let her dad delete it, the wondering would kill her. It would be a worse death than any text inside could cause. She could do this. She could read it.

"No, Dad. It's okay. I'm- I'm gonna go upstairs. Is that okay?"

"Sure," he nodded with a smile. She gathered her pillow, blanket, sheet music, phone and retreated to her room. As soon as she settled on the bed, she laid her phone down on her stomach, front and center, and just thought.

She thought about a lot. She thought about the possibilities. Maybe Quinn was in trouble. Maybe she was apologizing. Maybe she was drunk. Maybe it was an accident.

Or maybe she wanted to talk?

Maybe she wanted to talk.

Rachel grabbed her phone, ripped open the flip and clicked "Read" before the screen lit up with the simple, "Hey."

She wanted to talk.

And that was her best opener? It almost made Rachel giggle, almost. But the heaviness of the past six months rendered her humorless. She had no idea what to do. Quinn was obviously reaching out for a reason. They hadn't spoken in months. What happened? Why now? What for? And how was she?

Rachel needed so much. One measly text was such a tease. She needed a novel from the blonde. She wanted a waterfall of words.

She hit "Reply" and hesitated before responding. She took a breath and waited. For what, she didn't know.

At the Fabray residence, Quinn's phone bing-bonged across the room. She ripped the pillow off her head and dove to the floor with fervor. She scrambled over to the phone and whipped it open before smiling so wide she thought her cheeks were going to tear.

_Hey back._

It was perfect. She breathed a sigh of relief, crawled back into her bed and went to type out a response. That's when she realized it: the second text was the hard one, _not_ the first. She was so stupid.

"Just be yourself," she mumbled. "Be yourself. She loved yourself." She pulled her bottom lip between her teeth, furrowed her brow and worked it out.

**I would ask how you are, but I know.**

She hit send and waited. She hoped Rachel read that the way she meant, that she knew how Rachel was because she was that way, too, and not because she was oh-so-smart and the girl look oh-so-depressed. Man, when would her heart stop worrying? When would this all just be over? And by over, what exactly did Quinn think that would mean? Together? Fully apart?

Oh the grey, it haunted her.

Her phone bing-bonged a few seconds later.

_Back at you._

Quinn's sadness brought a helpless smile to her face and down the street Rachel brought a glass of water to her lips, frowning again over the image of second period. She hated the thought. It was almost as bad as not having the blonde for herself. If she couldn't have her, she at least wanted her to be happy. But Quinn was neither. Her phone dinged and she wanted to hit herself for reflexively smiling at the noise. It was not a good sign. It was a sign of hope and hope brought heartbreak, over and over and over again. Her jaw clenched and she read the new text.

**Do you think they make books for this conversation?**

Rachel tried not chuckle at the self deprecation, but Quinn was so right. She had no idea what to say either.

_If you find a copy, please mail it to me. You have my address._

**I'll give it to Fred to drop over.**

Rachel awed at the mention of Fred; he was their mailman and came to adore the girls. They could send treats to each other through Fred late on Saturday mornings. It brought them the simplest form of joy.

The Saturday after Thanksgiving their junior year, Rachel had passed along her world famous and labeled "Leftover Tofurkey Sammich" to drop at Quinn's. When Fred passed back by Rachel's house on the way out of their neighborhood, he had a return note from Quinn. It simply read, "Reason #2,158 why I love Rachel Berry: She says sammich (and thinks tofurkey is food)." Fred had tousled her hair as Rachel sat blushing over the note on her front stoop.

Their relationship was always about the little things. And Fred was a big thing that brought them their little things. They knew each other inside and out and the little things let them display that knowledge gleefully.

Nowadays, if Fred happened to catch them outside their respective houses, he would just give a sullen tip of his head.

Even Fred knew.

Rachel swiped a small tear away and focused back on her phone, wondering how well she actually knew Quinn anymore. Maybe she'd test it.

_How was dinner with your Mom tonight?_

When Quinn pulled open her phone, she couldn't help but smile. She felt her heart rate pick up for the first time in months.

**Probably as good as your night in with H.**

_Boring, but fun?_

**Okay, honestly, not like your night at all. I kind of had a freak out.**

_ Then your night was just like mine... I had a panic attack._

**Watching Little Shop of Horrors again?**

_I'm being serious. Ass._

**Rachel Berry curses regularly now? Why did you have a panic attack then?**

_A lot has changed. And because_ _your phone number lit up on my screen._

Quinn choked back her shock and felt sorry immediately. It was a mistake to come out of the blue at Rachel like that. What was she thinking?

**I'm so sorry, Rach.**

The words hit Rachel like a brick wall. She's wanted to hear them forever for a multitude of things and there they were, vague in their meaning and just dangling.

_What are you sorry for?_

**Everything under the sun**.

_That's a cheap answer._

Quinn took a deep breath and steadied her fingers. If she had any chance in the world, they needed a clean slate. Dad always said that's the only way people could start over. It was the only way she and he had started over. She took his advice and ran with it. Unleash.

**For abandoning you. For ignoring you. For saying the things I said to you. For the way I said those things. For being a chicken shit. For doubting you. For ruining you. For everything.**

Rachel read the words over and over. Her fingers felt like stone, gargoyle style, gripping her phone. It's everything she's wanted to hear- well a start at least- and it was coming through a text message. It didn't seem right, but somehow she understood.

_ I literally have no idea what to say to you. I don't like this feeling._

**You're rarely speechless.**

_I'm NEVER speechless._

**I can remember a few times you were speechless. ;)**

Rachel's stomach twisted itself into knots. It wasn't okay. It wasn't, it wasn't right. And that thought made her want to cry herself into her next life.

_Don't do that. Don't flirt with me, Quinn._

Quinn's phone bing-bonged and the small smile on her face immediately vanished. She knew it was too much to say and too soon and maybe it would never be okay to say again.

**Sorry**.

And then she sent a second text.

**Again.**

Rachel gnawed on the inside of her lip, unsure where to go from there. She'd practically smacked Quinn down through the phone and now she had to put them back on some track. Which track did she want- that was the million dollar question.

_Graduation is in two weeks._

**Yes, my mother made me very aware of that earlier tonight**.

_Is that was this is about?_

**This?**

_You texting me._

**I don't know. I guess partly, yes. But I don't know what that means.**

_What are you doing this summer?_

**Mom says I'm to spend it putting myself back together before Columbia.**

_I thought you weren't going! When did that change?_

**Dad is practically forcing me. He's not giving me another option, he said.**

_Good for Papa Russ. It would be a colossal mistake if you didn't._

**He misses you.**

_I highly doubt that. _

**Mom misses you.**

_That seems more likely._

**I miss you, too, you know.**

_Quinn._

**Yeah?**

Rachel took a minute as the "Yeah?" stared back at her. She could do it again; she could shut Quinn down. She needed to shut her down. Somehow, the words didn't find their way out. She sighed and deflected instead.

_I think I need to go to bed. It's 12:30._

**Okay.**

_Sorry._

**It's okay. I know it's late.**

Quinn stared at the picture of Rachel on her phone after sending the message and couldn't help but wonder if she'd derailed anything. Would they go back to not talking on Monday? Did she give them hope for a future? And what exactly _was_ in their future? Did they even have one? She opened her phone again.

**Excited to leave for Juilliard in a few weeks?**

_I deferred out of the summer program. I leave end of August for fall._

Quinn's jaw found the floor. Rachel opted_ out_ of the summer program she'd fought so hard to get into?

**Oh. Wow. That's pretty shocking. Why did you defer?**

Rachel's response was immediate, alarming and brash:

_Really?_

Quinn gulped down the ferocity behind the word. She felt the bile rise up in her throat and eyed the bathroom door. Her thoughts swam. Her head hazed. Rachel really could take her apart in a second. She was a blubbering, idiotic fool and saying all the wrong things.

**I guess this is where I say I'm sorry again.**

_I guess so._

Ouch, Quinn cringed. She kept digging her hole deeper and deeper. She needed to curb this momentum before she dug that hole into a grave and flung herself into it.

**I'll let you get some sleep now. Sorry I texted so late. I just, I don't know.**

_I know. It's fine._

**Hey, Rach?**

_Yeah?_

**Thanks for answering.**

Rachel read the text while burrowed into her bed, heavy eyes threatening sleep. She wondered what prompted Quinn to text her in the first place. She mentioned a freak out with her mother and god, why had Rachel not asked about it? Her mild self-centeredness really hindered her meddling sometimes.

_You should know I could never ignore you._

Quinn knew it was true. The past six months were silent because of her, not Rachel. Rachel continuously reached out, asking questions, pleading for answers, needing more details to feed different speculations about Quinn's behavior. She cringed at the thought of leaving the brunette in the dark for so long. She must still feel so clueless.

**I want you to know I had a bit of a mental turnaround today. I know that's not going to mean anything to you because you have no idea what's been in my head (issue number one), but the turnaround is about actually letting you in there.**

_What makes you think I _want_ in there? It's been six month, Quinn._

That genuinely threw Quinn for a loop. She assumed Rachel would be in the same place she was: hurt, confused, but still in love. What if she wasn't? That changed things completely. Quinn's jaw continued to slack as the thoughts rolled over in her mind. She never even considered the alternative. Why had she not considered it?

Because it was Rachel. Rachel loved her. She did. She had to. Quinn _knew_ she did and she'd always known it. If she had anything, she had faith in them. And she didn't plan to balk on that now. So she took a leap.

**Because I know you. I know us. Yeah it's been a while, but it's not dead.**

_Quinn, I can't do this. We can be friends. Period._

**We were never just friends and you know it.**

_Regardless, that's all I can offer you now and I don't even want to offer you that much. You have a lot of nerve even saying these things you're saying after what you did. I cringe looking at your number. I feel sick hearing your voice read these text messages in my head. I want to beat my eyes in because I keep picturing you lying in your bed right now. I don't let myself think about you anymore, not like that. Respect that._

**Friends is fine.**

Quinn's depression poured through the message. Rachel sighed and smacked herself. Why did she have to do that? Way to take the drama and up the intensity, freaking diva.

_I didn't mean to lash out at you._

**You did. But you're right. I deserved it. I'll let you sleep now.**

_I'm sorry. I didn't mean all that. I mean, I did, but I didn't. God, I'm stuttering through text messages. You still completely dismantle me, Quinn. That terrifies me. I almost had a breakdown in second period. I can't be that way anymore. _

**I know. I wanted to come over and wrap you up.**

She hit send without thinking and regretted it immediately. Rachel _just_ told her not to do that. When no response came, Quinn figured she'd definitely crossed the line yet again. She opened another message.

**Friends sounds really nice, Rach. We can do that. I miss talking to you and I want us to be okay- individually. My parents are worried. I'm sure H wants to murder me and Leroy wouldn't have been much better. So let's try friends. I need some light in my life... And you're the brightest star I know.**

Rachel shook off the emotional wreckage caused by Quinn's previous text and giggled at their old running joke. She felt herself genuinely smile for the first time in a long time.

_Okay. Friends._

**Friends**.

_Goodnight, Quinn._

**Night, Rach.**

Rachel tossed her phone to the empty space beside her and wondered how long it would be before she was regretting this truce.

As her eyes ran over the spare pillow and the empty left side of her bed, Quinn's side, she figured it wouldn't be long at all. Memories and images of the blonde in that space flooded her mind: Quinn asleep and curled up next to her after their first date, Quinn kneeling there to remove her own shirt, Quinn belly laughing at Friends on the TV, Quinn reading Wuthering Heights to her over Christmas, Quinn gazing lovingly into her eyes, Quinn making love to her.

She wrenched her eyes shut and rolled over to face the window.

This was going to be a complete and utter disaster.


	7. Chapter 6 HS Summer After Sophomore Year

**June - Summer After Sophomore Year/ Before Junior Year**

_Turn left. Why? Because I wanna be lost with you._

When her doorbell rang that hot summer afternoon in June, Rachel wasn't quite sure what to expect. She turned sixteen a few weeks ago and ever since, Quinn continuously made a big deal of asking her out on a date, but she had never actually asked her out on a date. It was always, "No! Let me ask you. I want to ask you. It's important that I ask you."

And then nothing.

Rachel, by her default setting, lacked patience. Sure, they'd practically been dating for two months now, but really, they hadn't. Just a few weeks ago, she let Quinn ask to be her girlfriend that sunny day in the park. She smiled at the memory and pranced over to the door.

She hoped when she opened it, Quinn would be standing on the other side. Her thoughts always took her back to the classics: Quinn in her letterman, Quinn offering her "pin", Quinn asking to go steady. The daydreams amused her.

She craved old school romance and love, just like Claudette Colbert and Clark Gable. In her mind, Quinn would show up in her old beater car, listening to something smooth like Billie Holiday, bat her beautiful hazel eyes, cause Rachel's leg to pop, and then they'd prance off to the sock hop and live happily ever after.

Sure, it was a very innocent way to look at love and the female role in society, but when it came down to it, Rachel could appreciate the old school way of life. She wanted simple. Like they believed, all they needed was love.

That's all she needed, along with Quinn to grow a pair.

When she opened the door and found a sweet, lanky African-American man grinning down at her instead of a sweet, blonde, Caucasian female grinning down at her, her smile faded.

"Fred."

"Morning, Miss Berry," he muttered, their own personal James Earl Jones. He could be narrating their story if he wanted to.

She cocked an eyebrow and craned to the left to see around the six foot five hunk of meat in front of her. Her perfectly groomed front yard sat empty before her. She snuck her out the door frame and looked left, empty street, and then right, also empty street. Kids played ball in her neighbor's yard across the way. Gran and Gram Beasley sat on their porch to her left. They swayed in their rockers and watched Fred standing on her front porch.

No sign of Quinn.

She pulled back inside and let her eyes climb up to Fred's. His grin annoyed her. She didn't like being out of the loop and something was going on, something was going on something fierce.

"Fred."

"Miss Berry."

"We already established that. Obviously you know who I am and my name, I would like to know why you are on my front porch and displaying such a grin. You know something. Where is my girlfriend?"

"Miss Fabray is unavailable at the moment."

"Fred. Cochran. You tell me where Quinn is this moment. By job, you are a service to this community. Now I demand you tell me where she is."

"Miss Fabray is unavailable at the moment. Miss Berry, could I request you come with me?"

"No."

"Miss Fabray informed me you would say that. Here," he said and his hand stretched out a folded piece of paper to Rachel. She eyed it, suspiscion overcoming her, and then looked at Fred. His nervous eyes held her fiery ones as long as they could before jerking away shyly.

He would break.

But did she really want to break Fred?

She huffed and took the paper. She unfolded it with a sigh.

_Stop being stubborn!_

It stared back at her in Quinn's messy hand-writing. Her eyes rolled all the way back into her head. Fred cleared his throat.

"If I may start over, Miss Berry; could you come with me, please?"

"Nope."

He frowned and pushed a second note in her direction with such an air of defiance she almost thought Quinn might have paid him to pull this off for her.

She ripped it from his hands with satisfaction and read it aloud:

"'Go with Fred or I'll never kiss you again.' Oh please! She could never not kiss me. You can go now, Fred. We are done here," she chirped and he thrust a third note into the air between them.

Her eyes gaped.

She wasn't expecting a third. She figured Quinn would figure that second one would do it. Rachel was set on proving her wrong. But no, Quinn knew she'd need a third.

And that, that enraged her. Quinn thought she was stubborn!

Well, she was, but still!

"Miss Berry," he repeated and pushed the note further. She reached out and took it with a gruff. She was over these games. It was Saturday afternoon and she was ready to start planning for their first date which had better be happening tonight or a certain blonde was going to be six feet under for making her wait yet another week more.

She tore the note open and her world stopped.

_I love you. Please, please, please go with Fred._

_Make me the happiest girl alive._

She couldn't stop staring at the first three words. It was the first time Quinn had put them together in any form. Sure, they both knew. But, but neither had said them, written them, texted them.

"She loves me," Rachel finally spoke.

"She does, Miss Berry. Please come with me."

Her feet moved her forward, of course. They knew where they wanted to go. Every bit of her wanted to go with Fred, but her stupid head always got in the way. She looped her arm around his elbow and he walked her down the stairs.

She left the front door open. She forgot her shoes.

She failed to turn lights off.

She didn't even fix her hair.

She just walked. She walked with Fred.

And Quinn loved her.

They strolled down the sidewalk towards Quinn's, unsure if that's where they were actually going, and all she could think was, "she loves me."

Quinn loved her.

They would be together forever. They would. Rachel knew it.

"Hey Fred," she asked.

"Yes, Miss Berry?"

"How old are you?"

"Seventy-two, Miss Berry."

"You know, Fred, you can call me Rachel. We're friends. Right?" she asked and darted her eyes up at him with that common hopeful gaze.

"We are friends, yes, _Miss Berry_," he chuckled.

"Fred!"

"Per Miss Fabray's request, I'm sorry."

Rachel balked in her stride and her jaw hit the floor. "She ordered you to call me Miss Berry?"

"No, ma'am. She did not order me. No one orders me. She simply requested I be a gentleman."

"Oh did she?"

"She did."

Rachel picked up her stride again, her socks starting to slip down her feet with every bit of friction against the concrete. Her oversized sweatshirt and leggings wouldn't dress up the afternoon's activities, but Rachel didn't care and she was sure Quinn wouldn't either.

"What was it like back in the day, Fred? Back in like, old Hollywood when everything dazzled and everything was all… swanky."

"Swanky?"

"Oh you know, penguin suits, porcelain skin, grandiose gestures of love."

"I wasn't really a part of old Hollywood, Miss Berry."

"Yes, but…"

"If you want to know about how life used to be, well that's different."

"Okay, that will be okay," she replied with a light twitch of a shy smile. "How did life used to be? Were you married?"

"I was."

"Is she, was she, um, did she…"

"She passed away, yes, Miss Berry. Her name was Nezzy."

"Nezzy?" Rachel giggled. "That's really cute."

"She was something else," he said with a nostalgic smirk.

"Was she as annoying as Quinn?" she grumbled. The laughter that burst from him caused Rachel to bite her lip in the smallest bit of joy.

Houses passed as they strolled through the neighborhood. Her socks now flopped off her feet, half of them hanging off completely. The wind blew through her messy ponytail. Her sweatshirt hung off her right shoulder.

"Miss Berry, you are quite hard on her, don't you think?"

"Me? Hard on her? Fred, you… you fell under the Fabray Charm. You did. You can't let your walls down around this one. She strikes fast and hard. You stop protecting yourself and bam, you're in love with her and making her sandwiches and stuff!"

He could only laugh. He'd watched these two experience their bourgeoning love over the past two months. He caught sight of the shy glances, the heated arguments, the kisses behind the dumpster at the neighborhood pool.

Oh yes, he'd seen it all.

When he caught them that April afternoon behind the clubhouse, the genuine petrified shock on their faces immediately told him this situation was going to be an important one in his life. He had a chance to make a difference, right then and there.

So when he saw their bodies trembling and tears start streaming down their faces, he stepped forward, placed a hand on each girl's shoulder and plainly stated, "I'm on your side."

They'd wrapped him up in a hug so tight he could barely breathe. He thought about Nezzy in that moment. She always wanted a daughter and he'd only given her a son. He figured it wasn't too late to keep giving back to the love of his life.

He committed to it that second and never looked back.

Ever since then it was like they'd formed a secret club. They shared smiles, glances, winks, and he acted as their own personal delivery boy between houses on Saturdays. He enjoyed it more than he ever thought he would. He brought Quinn sheet music written for her. He brought Rachel new books Quinn wanted her to read. He brought love letters they'd written for each other. He delivered photographs. He passed along messages.

And he knew Nezzy'd be proud of him.

When Quinn approached him with her idea two weeks ago, he said yes instantly. He couldn't find it in his heart, nor did he want to, to turn the young girl down. They were newly sixteen, newly in love, and would quickly be introduced to real life sometime in the near future. These were the golden days, he told Quinn; appreciate them, enjoy them.

She beamed and laid her plan out before him. It would be their first date and she needed it to be unique, classic, and special.

"Like old Hollywood," she'd said.

It made Fred chuckle inside. The girls were soul mates already, at sixteen, and they didn't even know it yet. Nezzy would definitely be proud of him.

They strolled up to Quinn's looming house, up her front stoop and paused in front of the door. Fred did nothing, as directed, once he got there. He simply supported Miss Berry's hand around his elbow and waited.

She grew more fidgety by the second. Her eyes started darting left and right, up and down. And then her weight shifted, and again.

She sighed.

And then huffed.

"Miss Berry."

"_Fred_."

"Patience and fortitude conquer all things," he said, his voice lined with such steadiness it made Rachel turn. Fred kept his obedient eyes lined straight.

"Are you my Morgan Freeman now?"

"That's Emerson. Ralph Waldo Emerson. You should read him. You would enjoy him. I know Miss Fabray does," he said, eyes still ahead. Rachel looked over him. Quinn liked Emerson?

Patience and fortitude.

She could do that. She could be that.

She turned back to the door and took a deep breath.

Fred glanced down to his right at the girl. She was trying so hard to be calm and patient. He watched Quinn's quote roll over her and couldn't help but smile at how the blonde knew her girlfriend. Her exact words echoed through his head:

"Throw something important at her and she'll take it seriously. She likes the finer things, things she thinks are more sophisticated. If she thinks it's serious business, she'll listen. If she thinks it's something she should know already, she'll take it to heart. She doesn't like sounding like she's out of the classy loop. Like, like… like Emerson. Yes, Emerson. Ralph will shut her up," Quinn had encouraged.

He had to give it to the blonde, she knew this girl inside and out.

Quinn always said, "That's what two years of torment, six months of unrequited love, and two months of unbearable passion will do to you. I read the book on Rachel Berry… _after _I wrote it."

He'd laughed at her cockiness. It was somehow endearing. And as he looked to the struggling, innocent young brunette to his right, he knew they were in for an interesting life.

He looked down to his watch and Rachel's eyes darted over.

The clock struck noon.

He gently took Rachel's arm from his elbow, placed a light kiss on her hand and then let it rest by her side before he started down the stairs.

"Fred! Where are you going? Do I go in?"

"Patience and fortitude, Miss Berry. Patience and fortitude," he finished with a smile and walked through Quinn's yard to his mail truck parked on the corner. With confusion and almost a little bit of fear, Rachel watched him go.

She wanted to spin on her heels, burst into the house and demand to know just what the in world Quinn was up to, but Fred's words echoed in her mind.

She could control herself. Adults controlled themselves.

She squared her shoulders, turned to the door and waited, eyes forward and willpower a blazing.

"Rach."

She whipped a complete one eighty and her eyes landed on Quinn in the grass about twenty feet away.

"Quinn."

"Happy Saturday," she grinned, a bit too shit-eating for Rachel's tastes. It fueled the tiny flame she'd just about smothered with Emerson. Soon enough, her insides were scorching.

"You! You have a lot of nerve!"

"Stop! Don't pretend you didn't enjoy your walk over here with Fred. Don't pretend you aren't excited about the mysterious. Don't pretend you don't enjoy being romanced. Just don't pretend, Rachel."

Her mouth opened to refute each and every claim falling out of Quinn, but nothing came out. And then it opened again when she shifted her weight and raised an indignant finger in the air, but it dissipated yet again.

"Good. Now shall we get on with it?"

She swallowed her knee jerk reaction to be insubordinate.

"What is it that we're getting on with?"

"Well, this morning while you were busy on the elliptical, I paid your parents a visit."

"You did what?" she gaped.

Quinn walked forward and stopped at the bottom of the three stairs separating them. She lifted her hand north and held it out to Rachel.

"I visited the Berrymen."

"You said that already."

"You acted like you didn't understand."

"I still don't understand."

"Well then take my hand and let me explain," she smiled. "We have places to be."

Rachel eyed the girl standing below her. She was in her favorite pair of ratty jeans and a green t-shirt that hugged her nicely and read, "Chinchillin" with a picture of a hamster in sunglasses.

She was adorable.

"You look really cute," Rachel gushed. Quinn smiled wide and looked down at her outfit.

"I'm in jeans and a tee."

"Exactly. But you know what?" Rachel said, placed her hand in Quinn's and walked down the stairs. When she got to the last one, she stopped and finally came eye level with the blonde. She smirked at the position and Quinn beamed, sliding her arms under Rachel's gaping sweatshirt and tightly around her bare waist. Rachel arched an eyebrow at the touch and Quinn shrugged.

"Nope, I don't know what. Tell me."

"Your shirt is wrong."

Quinn looked down at the hamster and then back to Rachel. The girl was positively glowing with joy. It was the Rachel Berry who knew she was about to be clever.

"How is my shirt wrong?"

"Well, it says Chinchillin."

"Yeah?"

"It should be Quinnchillin, don'tcha think?" she choked out through snickers.

"You are the lamest thing I know," she laughed, dragged Rachel off the steps and pushed her towards her dad's truck.

"But I'm also the cutest!" Rachel squealed and yanked Quinn back around flat into her chest. She laced her arms around the blonde's neck and held tight. "And you love me, apparently."

Quinn's eyes darted away and her cheeks flushed.

"I knew you'd get to the third note, you stubborn ass," Quinn murmured. Rachel scoffed and pulled Quinn's defiant chin back to her against multiples tries of the blonde's to look away.

"Hey, hey, hey, look at me. Would you rather I hadn't?" Their eyes met and Quinn felt the black hole that was Rachel. It was always spinning her around, taking her control, threatening demise.

"No, of course not. I just-"

"I love you," she blurted. "Stop being scared of me."

"I'm not… scared of you."

"You are. And stop it. I'm not going to hurt you. I'm not going to leave you. I'll never judge you. I will always, always be by your side. Okay? Do you hear me?"

"Yes."

"I love you," Rachel whispered.

Quinn felt herself spinning into that dark abyss, unable to claw out for the walls and stop herself. Where would she land? With a splat? On cloud 9? Either way, she had to leap at some point. Leap or go home, right? She already started this.

"I love you, too."

Rachel lit up with a smile Quinn vowed to always create. If she could put herself behind that smile for the rest of her life, all would be okay. In an instant, Rachel gave her purpose. Purpose she never thought she'd have in this town, in her life.

"Please tell me you're taking me out on a date. I really want to be mad at you if you aren't and I don't think I'll be able to after you just told me what you told me."

"That I love you?"

"Wow, it sounds even better the second time."

"Third."

"Yeah, the paper would count, wouldn't it?"

"Did you almost faint?"

"Did you almost faint _writing it_?"

"Little bit," they both chuckled at the same time. Quinn wrapped her arm around Rachel's waist and led them the rest of the way to her dad's truck. She thanked god Rachel was a midget and couldn't see into the bed of it. She would get in and never think twice.

"Why aren't we taking your Mom's car like normal?" she asked. Dammit. Who did Quinn think she was dealing with?

"First, I have only been driving for three weeks. There is no norm yet. Second, Mom needs it later. Dad said we could take the truck."

"But you've never driven it."

"Sure I have!"

"Driving it a mile up the street to the athletic complex is not the same as driving it to, to… _where_ are we going?"

"Look at you, you're pitching a fit and you don't have a clue what you're pitching it for. Relax, Rach. Just let me take you on a date."

"Oh so this is a date!"

"Maybe."

"You think you're all chivalrous, but really you're just annoying."

"Pot, meet kettle," she chided and smacked Rachel's ass as she climbed up into the midsize truck. It was just big enough to make the tiny creature climb, but not big enough to make Quinn feel like she was in a tank.

She couldn't handle tanks. She could barely park this thing as is. Rachel settled in the seat and Quinn smiled to herself, her hand balking from shutting the door. This could be fun.

She pulled one leg up on the running board and then climbed her way on top of Rachel. The girl immediately started squealing.

"What on earth are you doing!"

"Getting in the truck," she stated and landed a few stray kisses to the girl's neck as she purposefully crawled her way over Rachel with every awkward move in book. Her knee landed tight between the brunette's legs and a yelp flew from her.

"Quinn!"

"Whoops. Total accident," she chirped and kept crawling, her arms and legs banging into every ounce of Rachel and the dash and the seats and console. Rachel huffed every other movement, smacking Quinn when she could, protecting her sweatshirt when she couldn't, and attempting to contain her flusters otherwise.

The door slammed behind her feet and she landed with a hard thud and exhale behind the steering wheel. She ran a few straightening fingers through her hair and then turned to find Rachel guffawing at her.

"What?"Quinn asked.

"You are incorrigible."

"I love when you go all steamy, huffy librarian. It's hot."

"Librarian!"

"You know, 'cause of the big words," she tried to explain and the look of disdain on Rachel's face refused to lessen. Quinn rolled her eyes with a groan and started the truck. After backing them out, she snuck her hand across the console and laid it lightly over Rachel's thigh, palm out.

The girl knew the move. She knew exactly what Quinn wanted. Rachel crossed her arms and looked out her window.

Quinn rolled her eyes yet again and then flipped her hand over to slide lightly across that thigh. It only took two strokes before Rachel was shifting in her seat. She batted Quinn's hand away and turned back to the window.

"You're ruining our first date," Quinn huffed.

"You're playing with me for fun and you expect me just to take it because this _is_ our first date and you know I want it so badly. You're taking advantage of me." Quinn's scoffed loud and uncontrollable.

"Taking advantage of you? Rachel."

"Quinn."

"_Rachel_. That is ridiculous."

"_Quinn._ It is entirely not ridiculous."

"How about we talk about something else while I drive us to the super cool, secret location of our first date that you are going to swoon over and regret giving me such a hard time about?"

"Well if that statement's not loaded with a guilt trip, I don't know what is."

"Come on, ask me what I talked to your dads about."

"Oh! I forgot about that. What did you talk about and why did you come over when I was there and not say hi?"

"Because I wasn't there to see you; I was there to see your dads."

"Not making me like you any more right now."

"You love me. I came over to ask them if it was okay that I take you out."

"We go out all the time, they're fine with it. Why would you feel the need to ask that?"

"Because I wasn't asking them as your friend. I was asking them as your girlfriend and respecting their rules about your dating life."

"You outed me to my fathers?"

"What? No! They knew! They already knew! They knew, right? _Oh my god_, did they not know? Did I out you to your fathers? I am incredibly, oh my god!" Quinn sputtered out and pulled the truck off the road onto the shoulder. "Rachel! I am so, so sorry. I thought they knew! How did they not know!" she cried and reached across for Rachel's hands.

Those big, sad brown eyes pulled up slowly to focus on her. Oh god, how could she have stupidly assumed that and then asked her parents if she could date their daughter? What the hell was she thinking?

And then those brown eyes lit up with a snicker.

"No, they know. I was just kidding."

Quinn's jaw found the floor. And her palm found Rachel's thigh in a loud smack.

"Don't hit me!"

"You just gave me a heart attack!"

"My thigh is gonna be all red!"

"Ugh, I should drop your ass on the side of the street for that."

"I bruise so easily!" Rachel growled and rubbed her thigh. They both huffed outrageously and focused on the road as Quinn pulled back out. Moments passed with only the sound of cars whipping past in the opposite direction. Quinn shifted hands on the steering wheel and Rachel crossed and recrossed her legs.

When they settled, Quinn shifted her eyes to the brunette and then back to the road.

"Are we even now?"

"Mhm," Rachel chirped.

"Finally," Quinn muttered and reached her hand back across the console where it hit Rachel's, palm up, just like before. Rachel smiled over the blonde and then laced their fingers together. It was heaven in an annoying hand basket.


	8. Chapter 7 HS Senior Year May

May - Senior Year

_It's an Abandoned Town, Let's Explore_

Even walking behind Quinn through Sheets 'N' Things pushed Rachel towards the cliff. The blonde picked her up an hour ago in her '76 VW Beetle and Rachel hated that she still found it sexy and so very Quinn. And she was thankful Quinn had the top down. Otherwise, she might have suffocated inside. She couldn't think of what to say once they got past, "Hey," and apparently neither could Quinn.

Every glance at the blonde reminded Rachel of what happened. Every whiff of her perfume flashed memories behind her eyes. Every smile across her face while sitting behind the wheel took Rachel back to their first date.

The thoughts of where they had started, been, and now landed made her want to swallow herself alive. They hadn't said two words on the drive to the mall. Shopping for dorm necessities figured to be a mundane activity they could start with on this new "let's be friends" journey with which she'd reluctantly put them. It was to be calm, light, and easy.

But no, she was walking behind the love of her- _ex_ love of her life- listening to the blonde mutter about paint colors and style and matching and, "What about feng shui?"

Feng shui. Quinn resorted to feng shui. _Quinn._

"You know you want to buy black sheets, just buy black," Rachel muttered with exasperation and ran her fingers over a stack of bright, baby blue sheets. Quinn stopped walking and mumbling and turned around to face Rachel.

"Black? How do you figure?" she asked with a cocked eyebrow.

"It's all you wear anymore."

Quinn looked down at her clothes. She had on a grey tank top and blue jeans with a black stringy necklace. It wasn't a _black_ black outfit. Quinn giggled.

"What are you trying to say, Short Stack?"

Rachel shot her eyes up to Quinn.

The blonde felt the darts behind them.

"Sorry. What are you trying to say, _Rachel_."

"I'm saying you dress like you look- feelings wise. At least, I think so and I'd have to say I used to know you pretty well," Rachel shrugged.

"You still do."

Rachel looked up to her and prayed the pounding in her heart subsided before it sent her into a seizure. Those eyes, those eyes that used to anchor her still anchored her, but in a way that made her feel caught, trapped, and suffocated.

Quinn tried to tell her so much in the few seconds she knew she had before one of them looked away. She wanted to grab the girl and tell her she still knew everything, was everything, would be everything, but she couldn't.

They were _friends. _Goddamn friends.

Sorry, Jesus. Sorry.

She sighed regretfully and watched Rachel's eyes finally leave hers with nothing in their hold. How long would it take, Quinn wondered, and turned back to the sheets. How long would she have to go through this awkward pain around her best friend, her favorite person, the greatest love she's ever had?

How long?

"Quinn, I'm not sure this was a good idea," Rachel mumbled behind her.

She turned back around to face the innocent voice and found Rachel fiddling with her fingers while staring through the floor.

Watching her standing there, fiddling and nervous, it took Quinn back to the first time she kissed the girl.

But now… now she looked so tired. She looked how Quinn felt.

Everything was just so tiring. The last six months had been at best awkward and at worst vicious. Now here they were, standing in an aisle full of sheets and not a clue in sight. She didn't know what was happening or what to do about it. She just knew it was better than yesterday.

Really, that's all she knew.

So she took that, that small sliver of hope, and Quinn stepped up to her.

"Rach," she pleaded and Rachel looked up to her, no questions asked. "All I know is that today has been better than yesterday. And I want tomorrow to be better than today. That's it. That's all I know. And frankly, it's enough for me, in this moment, shopping for _sheets_," she deadpanned with a smirk.

The light sentiment and truth of the statement rolled peace over Rachel. She closed her eyes, took a steady breath, and gave a shy smile and nod.

"You're right. You're right, you're absolutely right. Today is better than yesterday. That's, that can be enough for me," she smiled.

"Good," Quinn countered, mirroring that smile, and brushed a hand over Rachel's elbow in a show of-

Rachel jerked out of reach and regret plummeted.

"Sorry! Sorry. It's reflex. I… I'm sorry," Rachel stumbled.

Both girls took in gulps of air before taking a step apart. Rachel couldn't believe she'd done that, jerking away like Quinn was going to physically hurt her. What was she thinking? She was going crazy, that's what she was thinking. She was losing her mind, afraid of her heart, and petrified of Quinn.

Get a grip, you amateur, she scolded. You're Rachel Berry. You are not afraid. You are more than this.

"It's fine. I get it," Quinn said with a forced smile and turned to continue her shopping.

God, Rachel. Look at that frown she caused. Quinn shouldn't be frowning. That face should never be frowning, especially not because of _her_. She gulped down the last of her courage and skipped forward to sidle up next to Quinn.

Fix it, Rachel. Just fix it.

"I think you should go with baby blue," she smiled. "It's light. It's airy, almost happy."

Quinn pondered over the suggestion and color and instantly found herself floating off to Rachel Berry land; it was the land of blue skies, blue ponds, blue prom dresses, blue flowers, and blue balloons at sunny carnivals.

Oh, and blue stuffed animals and blue cotton candy.

Oh yes.

"I could do baby blue," she whispered with a lazy smile.

"I think you'll like it. It makes me think…" Rachel started, tapping a finger to her chin and staring off somewhere.

Quinn sat on pins and needles waiting to hear where baby blue took Rachel.

"It makes me think of how we used to say that clouds thing about your books," she finally murmured.

"Huh?"

"Remember? I feel like we said it two Christmases ago."

"I need more details," Quinn lied. She just wanted to Rachel to remember _them_: together, happy, in love.

"Yeah at my house Christmas night. We'd tensely debated Hanukkah vee Christmas. Dad was a bit tipsy on Papa Russ's eggnog. You don't remember this?"

"I'm still waiting for the part where you tie this into blue and books and clouds," Quinn smirked and ran her hand over some red sheets. She wondered if she would ever be a girl like Rachel, a girl who could pull off maroon, red, and pink sheets. She just wasn't that girl.

She looked up the sky high shelves and compared a few hanging rugs. Would she need rugs? And why were rugs in the sheets aisle? How many sheets aisles were there?

"Quinn?"

"Huh?"

"I asked if you remembered our talk on the front porch after Papa went all slurry and Judy started dancing with Dad. Don't zone me out. You know what happens when you zone me out," Rachel pouted.

"You refuse to share your brilliant, magnificently understated stories," she imitated in her best Rachel voice. She always took it a bit higher and shriller than necessary, for fun.

"I don't sound like that."

"Sure you don't," Quinn smirked. Rachel rolled her eyes, gripped a stack of baby blue sheets that Quinn breezed right by and thrust them into her back. Quinn whirled around and begrudgingly took them out of her hands. "That hurt, you know."

"They're like 400 thread count sheets. I practically threw a cloud into your back. Give me a break."

"Give me _the rest of the story_."

"I'm trying!" Rachel stomped.

And Quinn suddenly, without warning, fell in love all over again.

She swallowed her beaming smile and calmly squared her shoulders to the tiny brunette, streamlining all her focus on the diva.

"I'm all yours. Go," she demanded and then made motions of tying on her Serious Sally Bonnet. "See? Ready. All yours."

Rachel shook off the thunder, lighting, and general freaking tsunami the phrase sent through her body. She'd heard it too many times and too many of those times were in their beds, under the sheets, panting into each other, moaning beneath each other, declaring possession of each other.

She gulped.

Oh geez. Rachel shook her head out.

What story was she telling?

God, what were they even talking about? All she could look at, focus on, and think of were those lips staring back at her only two feet away.

That's twenty-four _long_ inches, Rachel. That was a long, long distance.

They are far, _far_ away.

Story, find the story.

"Rach?"

Gulp. What the ever living Barbra was she talking about and why could she not control herself?

Boys! Boys were supposed to be like this. She was a girl! A Rachel Berry!

"Yeah?" she choked out.

"You were trying to tell me a story. Well, you were freaking out about not being able to tell this story and now you're not telling it. Were you, um, actually going to tell it? I'm confused."

But really she wasn't confused at all.

Rachel was too flustered, jittery, and all around having the most amusing mental freak-out of Quinn's near memory and it was all too good to miss.

"Yeah, ugh. What were we-"

"Sheets."

"Sheets..."

"_Baby blue_ sheets," Quinn helped with a smirk she tried to hide with such desperation and failed.

"Baby blue sheets!" Rachel gasped. She remembered! Yes!

"Easy tiger," Quinn giggled. "They're just sheets."

"No. That was my point of this whole, this whole thing. Baby blue, for me, about you, makes me think about Christmas Night."

"Yeah, you told this part already."

"Oh, right."

"Fast forward."

"Okay, um, Judy was dancing with Dad and-"

"Fast forward more."

"Oh. Okay, ugh… Papa Russ, he was-"

"Proud of H getting tipsy off his eggnog. Come _on,_ Rachel."

"Sorry! So we were on the porch! Because things got a bit 'annoying adult' with the debating of-"

"Hannukah versus Christmas."

"Do _you _wanna tell the story?" Rachel eyed her.

"I mean, I will if you aren't _gonna_," she baited and twirled back around, flowing down the aisle and around the edge into the next. Rachel watched her, couldn't help but smile, and skipped around the edge to catch up.

"I'll tell it, I'll tell it! Did I already say the part where we went on the porch?"

"I think that's where you left off," Quinn smiled to herself and stopped in front of the bathroom sets. What would go with baby blue? Yellow? Sage? Hmm…

"You should do a light green for the bathroom stuff. It would keep the same flow of energy," Rachel directed. Quinn smiled and quickly reattached her defiant face.

"Flow of energy? Really, Rach?" she snickered.

"Yes, really. But back to my story-"

"You mean _my_ story."

"Shut it! It's my story. So we were on the porch. And remember, we could hear Dad going on about dreidels and Judy started singing Deck the Halls? That was _so_ funny and painfully awkward."

"Funniest part was my dad breaking out Santa's deep, chortling ho, ho, ho and shaking that slight belly of his. Did you know Mom started making him work out the next day? She said, 'It just jiggled too much for her cholesterol-caring comfort.' What does that even mean?"

"It means she was worried about weight becoming a factor against the health of-"

"I wasn't being serious."

"Oh."

"Your story?"

"Right! So we're sitting on the porch. You're all bundled up in that childlike adorable green beanie with the bouncy balls hanging off each side. Remember that hat?"

"Still my favorite."

"So cute. But anyway, so you're in that hat and I think I was wearing-"

"Your Wicked hoodie."

"Yes!" she grinned. What a fond memory. It rolled over her with such familiarity. She loved Christmakah with Quinn, always would. "We were sitting and talking about Wuthering Heights, remember?"

"Mhm." It was Quinn's favorite book to read over Christmas. She let Rachel's loveseat chair swallow her whole while she lost herself in it by the fire. It happened night after night over Christmas break two years ago. This past Christmas was a bit of an exception, obviously.

But Rachel, Rachel hated the book. It was long and descriptive and just, too gothic, she always said. It was supposed to be this heroic romance, but only Quinn recognized the romance. Rachel was stuck in the ghoulish scenery and meandering words.

"You were quoting something to me out of it, telling me it was beautiful. I don't remember the quote, though," Rachel mused.

"You wouldn't," Quinn jabbed with a light hearted huff. "You always hated that book."

"Hate is a strong word, I think."

"It's the right word. You've used it multiple times in specific reference to the book."

"Back to my story. What was the quote?" Rachel asked.

Quinn knew she didn't remember the quote. She never would've asked otherwise. She never would've brought up this story. She never would've _thought_ about Christmakah, Emily Bronte or Wuthering Heights.

Quinn knew.

"Quinn? Do you remember what quote you used to always talk about? It's kind of pertinent to _my_ story," she grinned cheekily.

Man, that smile. Quinn didn't realize how much she missed it. She couldn't give her the quote. She couldn't. It would wreck that smile and this glorious vibe they had somehow created.

"I don't remember."

She always remembered.

"Awe, man," Rachel feigned. "Okay. Well anyway, we were out there and you were talking about that book with such grandiose emotion and gesticulating like mad. I could feel your passion, you know. It's always been that way. I mean, it always was. It's like your books took you up and away to escape in the clouds."

"That's what you used to say," the blonde hummed.

"'Come out of the clouds, Q,'" Rachel started.

"'Come be with me instead,'" Quinn finished for her, softly, under her breath and scared of its implications. Rachel said that to her plenty of times, most in bed when Quinn would read before falling asleep. _Come out of the clouds, Q, come be with me instead._ Quinn would close her book, hit the lights, and roll into her girl. Or in the park, she'd be on her back, Rachel's head resting on her stomach, a book in one hand and Rachel's in the other. _Come out of the clouds, Q, come be with me instead. _Quinn would set her book down, run her fingers through Rachel's hair and just be.

They used to be perfect, like these bathroom fixtures.

She ran a hand over a light green toothbrush glass. Her fingers fell to slide over the matching soap dish. And then they rose to glide across the similar brush jar, so sleek, so smooth, so designed to perfection.

_Just_ like her and Rachel.

Now look at them.

Rachel watched Quinn lose herself staring at the green bathroom objects. She watched those long, slender fingers curve over each edge like they were most beautiful things in the world.

These moments, Rachel would give anything to be in the blonde's thoughts; so many of them happened with Quinn. Whether she was sitting in the back row of glee reading a book, lying on her couch staring at her dog, or driving the road with music in her ears, she always went somewhere.

Rachel used to go with her.

Now she sat on the peripheral wondering if she'd ever be joining her again.

She let her eyes fall away from the blonde.

"That's… that's why baby blue fits you. You live in the clouds."

"When I'm not with you," Quinn murmured, let her cloudy hazel eyes catch Rachel's, anchoring them purposefully, and then she grabbed the box of the green fixtures on the shelf above the display and walked away.

Rachel choked down her pain.

Why was her chest so tight watching Quinn go? And why did those eyes not shimmer anymore? She needed those eyes to return and disappear all at the same time. She needed them to marry her _and_ divorce her. She needed them to light up and also cry, cry, _cry_.

What had she done to Quinn? God, what had Quinn done to _her_?

And why couldn't Rachel stop, walk away, leave this, and leave her?

Cut the string, the gravity, set her free.

But nothing released her; she was tied.

She couldn't leave. And she couldn't forgive herself for what she did, yet somehow she forgave Quinn in an instant over text messages, maybe before. Life was too ironic sometimes.

The brunette took a deep breath and calmed her whipping contradictory soul. They still had duvets, towels, shelves, laundry baskets, and curtains to purchase.

She had a long way to go.

And along the way, all she could hear was Wuthering Heights. She took a slight breath and set the quote she knew like the back of her hand free from her thoughts:

"_Kiss me again, but don't let me see your eyes. I forgive what you have done to me. I love my murderer- but yours. How can I?"_ she murmured, watching blonde hair swish, hips swivel, and personified _love_ sway towards Organization Aisle 7.

Rachel heaved a sigh and dropped her head.

Clean-up on Aisle 6.


	9. Chapter 8 HS Summer After Sophomore Year

I'm so glad everyone is enjoying the story so far. That makes me happy. To answer a question, there are 55 chapters total. :) I wanted to give you guys a good base and then we'll do one a day moving forward. XO Dylan

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><p>June - Summer Before Junior Year<p>

_Turn Around, Turn Around! The 'Hot' Sign Is On!_

"This isn't funny anymore," Rachel scowled. "We have been driving forever."

The giggles continuously erupting from Quinn threatened to end her. Blind-folding one Rachel Berry turned out to be one of her most favorite things in the whole wide world. Who would've thought?

"I bed to differ. I find it quite funny."

"You're doing it again."

"Doing what?"

"Playing with me," she seethed.

"But, but you're my favorite toy," Quinn whined with a grin she was so thankful Rachel couldn't see.

"Consider yourself single, Miss Fabray," Rachel growled.

"Gasp! Single? And on our first date? No!"

"Yep. I hope you're single forever. I hope you send me letters on Single Lonely Hearts Club stationary when you're eighty-five and left with only your looks 'cause you've _lost_ _your mind_."

"Awe," Quinn cooed. "You think I'm pretty."

"That's not, that's not what I said."

"You think I'm going to be eighty-five and still _pretty_, Rachel," she gushed. "That is the sweetest thing you have ever said to me."

Rachel grumbled and slid closer to the door of the truck. The leather seats squeaked below her.

"Where are you going?" Quinn chuckled.

"Planning my escape."

"Passengers must keep hands and arms and diva heads inside the moving vehicle at all times," Quinn directed.

Rachel guffawed.

"Diva? See if you get any tonight," she groaned.

_Get any?_

Quinn's attention whipped to the right, taking the steering wheel right along with her. They hit the gravel lining on the edge of the paved road quickly and the truck bounced out of control.

"Oh shit!" Quinn screamed and tried to pull them back left.

"What's happening?" Rachel shrieked. "If you kill me on our first date, I swear to Moses!" Rachel wailed beneath her blindfold and pinned her hands to the roof of the cabin, the truck bouncing and rocking beneath them. Gravel kicked up viciously and Quinn's white knuckled grip on the steering pulled left and left and further left. They hit a pothole and Rachel screamed. "Quinn Fabray! The road! The road! The road!"

"Shut up, shut up, shut up!"

Why did she have to take the truck? Why, oh why? She could barely see the front of it or control the rocking suspension. This must be what Monster Trucks was like!

And not… in… a… good… way, she moaned inwardly while pulling harder. The truck popped back up onto the pavement and Quinn straightened them out with only a few squealing tires.

"Oh, thank God," she breathed.

"What in the hell, Fabray!"

"I know! I know."

"Drive, much?" Rachel squawked and settled back into the seat, pulling her seatbelt tight against herself. "What happened?"

Quinn certainly couldn't tell her that the mere thought of getting Rachel Berry action caused her to drive off the road.

"A bee landed on my hand," she said.

"The windows aren't down."

"It must have, must have been in here from earlier."

"Quinn."

"_Ma'am_?"

"You were thinking about intercourse, weren't you? Intercourse with _me,_" Rachel questioned, her voice dripping with sex and satisfaction. Ugh, Quinn hated that satisfaction.

"Oh, look. We're here!" she chirped and pulled into their destination. Rachel moved to take her blindfold off. She was ready to be wooed and surprised and stunned and Quinn had better succeed.

"No! Leave it on. Not ready for the reveal yet," Quinn demanded. A few minutes and one drive-by ticket booth later, they were finally rolling towards the goods. Quinn pulled up to the wide grassy field and let the truck hum to stop. Where did she go now? Was there a lane or an arrow? What the…

"Quinn, are we here?"

"Hush, please."

"Rude."

"Hush more," she muttered and looked over the field with a few cars scattered around. What next?

Rachel sighed and let her head fall back on the seat. Quinn glanced over to her and then back to the field. Where does one park and drive and do at a Drive-In? Quinn should have studied up on this.

Instead of taking the obscure and unnoticed driving lane to the right, she slowly pulled forward into the grassy field and immediately found herself driving over grassy, long moguls.

The truck rocked forward and back and forward and back as they drove over each ginormous speed bump style hill across the field. Quinn tried to contain her laughter and embarrassment. _Surely_, she was doing this wrong.

Rachel gripped the console and oh-shit bar on the dash.

"Quinn," she stated calmly as their bodies dramatically flung forward and back.

"Just," molehill, "ignore it," molehill, "if you can."

"I'm going to vomit," she muttered and gripped tighter.

Quinn was steadily ruining their first date. Why wasn't she smoother? Why didn't she _know_ things!

And just then, she caught sight of the car behind her trailing down the side street she'd not seen before. Smooth driving and perfectly aligned, the car easily pulled down one row and backed up one of the molehills to point their car towards the screen. It really was that simple.

"Mother fu-"

"Quinn!"

"-udger. Mother fudger," Quinn finished and gulped down her shame. They prowled over the last hill and Quinn figured the distance was good. She threw the truck in reverse and backed up the hill they had just rumbled over. It pointed the back of the truck directly up towards the screen looming across the field.

A smile tore across her face.

_Finally,_ it was time and it was going to be fantastic. She threw it in park and clicked the key over to battery. The engine sputtered off and Quinn breathed a sigh of relief. She reached behind them and pulled open the back window.

"I have made it out alive," Rachel deadpanned. "Color me surprised."

"Oh, shut up," Quinn chided and jumped out her side. She hustled around the master tank, her worst enemy, and pulled open Rachel's door.

"Blindfold off _now_?" Rachel begged.

"Not quite."

"I loathe you."

"Love. We pronounce that word loooove," Quinn played, tickled Rachel's side and grabbed her hand to help the little woodland creature out of the truck. Her baggy sweatshirt hung messily off her shoulders; Quinn figured this was caused from the rough ride over.

She'd steadily get better at driving, right?

Hopefully.

She slammed the door behind Rachel as the girl's now bare feet sunk into the soft grass below them.

"_Where_ in the world are we? Can people see me? Is there a crowd? Oh my god, an audience? Am I on stage?"

"Would you relax, you pod person. You are standing in grass. Do you know of a grassy stage?"

"I'm sure I could think of one if-"

Quinn didn't wait for the rest of that statement and yanked Rachel towards the bed of the truck. They rounded the corner and stood at the gate. Quinn snickered, knowing this was going to be fun, and pulled Rachel's body between hers and the truck.

"Up you go," she directed and wrapped her hands around Rachel's waist to help.

"Up I go where?"

"We're climbing your little body up into the back of the truck. Now come on," Quinn added and stepped a bit forward. Her body brushed up against the back of Rachel's and she couldn't help but let her eyes flutter shut at the feel and the smell and the overall marvelous being in front of her.

"Or not?" Rachel whimpered and leaned back, her head falling to Quinn's shoulder and her arm snaking up to wrap around the girl's neck.

Quinn went with what felt natural and let her lips sink down to Rachel's neck. She kissed once, twice, and then used a hand to turn those lips towards hers. Rachel attached herself with greed.

She could never get enough of them. Slow, sweet kisses turned needy and soon, Quinn was walking her forward, pinning Rachel's front against the back of the truck. The brunette whimpered out and Quinn slid her tongue inside, her other arm wrapping around to drift down Rachel's abdomen.

She hovered right at the top of her yoga pants and when the tiny girl's hand covered hers and pushed downward, Quinn begrudgingly removed her tongue from Rachel's mouth and backed off. The brown head fell forward, slamming into the metal truck with a huff and frustrated sigh.

"Sorry, love, but if you knew where we were, you wouldn't have done that," Quinn whispered and placed a light kiss over the tip of her ear.

"Ugh, I suppose that's fair," she groaned.

"Any other place, any other time," Quinn purred. "You just say when."

"Don't tempt me," she hummed and reached blind hands forward. They hooked the top of the truck gate and Quinn hoisted her up and over. Rachel's second foot snagged the gate and sent her toppling her forward.

She landed with a muffled thud and groan.

"Why are there pillows and blankets in the back of your dad's truck?" Quinn heard her call out. She smiled and swung a leg up on the bumper to hoist herself over as well. She took in her wonderful handy work. Fred's too.

Blankets and pillows were strewn about creating a pit of heaven in the bed of the truck. A picnic basket and a bag of goodies sat off to the side and Quinn stepped carefully around the girl spread awkwardly, face down, across the floor.

"That's the surprise," she said and dug herself a seat beside the basket and bag. "Come here."

"Where is here?"

"Use your opposable thumbs and extremities and crawl yourself over to my voice, dummy."

"You know, I used to think you were a sweetheart before we started officially dating."

"We started officially dating today."

"Precisely," Rachel sing-songed and crawled her way towards Quinn. She smacked an awkward searching hand on Quinn's knee and settled herself beside the blonde. With a large, exhausted huff, she leaned back into the pillows nestled against the cab of the truck. Light noises wafted through the open window behind her. "Baby, you left the power on. I can hear the radio."

"You'll hear it much, much louder later."

Rachel was more confused than ever.

"Can I please take my mask off now? I want to be happy with you and I am just too confused to settle down. You know me; I need to be in the know. Please?" she whispered and leaned into Quinn, her head falling lightly on the blonde's shoulder. Quinn smiled, reached down between them and laced their fingers together.

"Sure, Rach. Now's good," she said, eyes landing on the white movie screen off in the distance.

"Yes!" Rachel hissed and ripped the blindfold off with her free hand. Those curious, confused eyes darted from screen to moguls to the grassy field to the concession stand house to the projection house to the basket of food and bag of games, cards, books, and magazines. Quinn could see the wheels cranking.

And then those eyes hit Quinn with such loving fire.

"You brought me to a Drive-In?" she gasped.

Quinn nodded and placed a quick peck on the gaping lips.

"These still exist?"

"There is only one left in Ohio. A few states have some left as well. Turns out ours is only an hour away," Quinn smiled and pulled her bottom lip in between her teeth. She didn't want to be nervous, she knew she had done well, but if Rachel didn't react one way or the other she was about to lose her cool. "Do you like it?"

Rachel whipped back to her.

"Do I _like_ it? Are you joking? This is the most spectacular thing I have ever seen! I feel like it's 1955 and we're at the Drive-In! But we're _really _at the Drive-In!"

"Amazing, right?"

"So romantic! Oh! What are we seeing?"

"It's Saturday, which means it's Oldies Night. They play regular movies the other days. But who wants to come to the Drive-In and watch a regular movie?" Quinn grinned. She could see Rachel's giddiness pounding through her, threatening to explode with excitement over what they could possibly be seeing.

"Tell me, tell me!"

"Bringing Up Baby."

A shriek responded.

"Carey Grant! Kate Hepburn! A tiger! It's black and white!" she wailed, clapping between each realization and eyes glowing.

"Yes, love, it's black and white."

"When does it start?"

"Dark."

"Quinn! It's like one in the afternoon! What are we going to do until eight?" Rachel pouted. All she wanted was for the movie to start so she could lie back, snuggle into Quinn and revel in happiness for two hours. This was perfect.

"Well, Miss Berry, I brought lunch and I brought dinner. And I brought games, cards, books, and magazines. Also, I brought a coffee table book about the movie. I thought you might like to read it while we wait. It has some really fantastic photographs of Kate."

Rachel had no words. She wanted to take back every ounce of fit she pitched the last two hours, all the way back to Fred. Wait. Fred.

"Why did Fred have to come get me?"

"Every superstar gets escorted to the main show, Rachel."

Rachel smiled dreamily and shook her head.

"You're too much, my lady. Really. This is perfect, everything a first date should and could ever be. Thank you," she whispered with sincere heaviness and leaned forward to press a kiss to Quinn's lips.

When she went to pull back, Quinn's hand caught the back of her neck and held tight, deepening the kiss and showing Rachel just who she was to the blonde.

She was absolutely everything.

Quinn's eyes pinched shut and she reveled. She reveled in the feeling of her girlfriend against her. She reveled in the clammy nervousness Rachel still brought out in her hands. She squeezed their fingers tighter together. She reveled in how it felt to be so impossibly close to someone and still be too far away.

She wanted everything about Rachel, inside and out. She could have bottled the girl and drank her for the rest of her life. She was Quinn's everything. And Rachel needed to know that. She pulled harder, pressing their lips tighter. Rachel's free hand slid up and caressed her cheek, almost willing her to calm down. She was here, _right_ here.

Quinn sighed and let their lips part with a steadying tremor.

"You're welcome," she breathed, her forehead falling to Rachel's. "I mean, for the date. Not for that. But that, too, of course."

Rachel smiled wide, pecked her once, straightened her sweatshirt and then slid the picnic basket towards them.

"Would you like a sandwich? Is there stuff for sandwiches?"

"There is," Quinn grinned. Rachel opened the basket and made herself busy, giving a little laugh at the irony of her words from earlier. She'd told Fred Quinn's charm snuck up on you, made you fall in love, and soon you were making her sandwiches.

She laughed.

"What's funny?"

"I'm just so in love with you it's pathetic," Rachel giggled. "Really, really pathetic."

"Back at ya, baby," Quinn drawled and snuggled down into the pillows.

The date went perfectly. They played scrabble, Rachel won. They played Slap Jack, Quinn won. They browsed the picture book about the movie and swooned over Kate, more so Rachel did. Quinn swooned over Rachel swooning over Kate.

She wondered how long it would be before Rachel had her own coffee table book depicting her stardom and story.

Quinn would buy it.

The movie passed by like a dream. Lying in the back of a truck, surrounded by Rachel, the stars, and a movie classically funny and romantic, it epitomized the perfection Quinn saw when she planned this date.

Romance, old Hollywood, classicism: that's Rachel.

They drove home slowly that night, Quinn paying stout attention to the road and Rachel playing with stray hairs on the back of her neck to keep her awake.

It was the first time Quinn spent the night. Rachel crawled in bed after what Quinn thought was a goodbye kiss, but then flung those pink sheets back and gave the blonde a look of pure want.

Not want for sex, want for proximity. Rachel would be happy not having Quinn more than three feet away for the rest of her life, and on the night of their first date, she wanted her even closer.

"Stay."

Quinn nodded, her insides begging for more, and then dragged off her jeans, her eyes never leaving Rachel's in the dark room. She pulled her arms inside her tank to remove her bra before pushing her arms back out the holes. Her bra hit the floor with a flutter and Rachel gulped.

_Not for sex_, she told herself again.

Quinn crawled forward and slid into bed.

"Is this side okay? I tend to like the left," she whispered. Rachel nodded.

"Yeah, I sleep on the right."

They released nervous, innocent breaths, pulled into each other, and fell fast asleep. And neither, in their lives, had slept so soundly.


	10. Chapter 9 HS Senior Year May

I'm really loving the fact that everyone is enjoying the story. Continue to give me your thoughts. I love hearing them! XO Dyl

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><p>May - Senior Year<p>

_Can We Stop? I Have to Pee._

After duvets, laundry baskets, bathroom fixtures, an area rug, sheets, and towels, Quinn figured she and Rachel would have a pretty clear idea of where they were heading. But no, somehow it was even greyer.

Something inside her felt free and joyful. Watching Rachel laugh, bantering with her, teasing her, remembering them together, it made Quinn light on her feet. She wanted it every day and every minute of every day.

But then that feeling of merriment rolled over itself and churned in her stomach. Thoughts flooded her, thoughts of the six months she was attempting to forget. She cringed while thinking about the most recent holidays and their demise. It all got so messy and so quick. She could barely look at Rachel then for fear of what she'd see.

Slowly they were trying to unravel this mess, but how do eighteen and almost-eighteen even begin to unravel something so large? Quinn had no idea. Every day over the past six months she'd felt lost. And if she was being honest, it started even before that. It started in September when they visited Juilliard.

Quinn shook her head at the memory. That trip wrecked her, wrecked her good. She should've expected it, right? At least she felt like she should've expected it. Somehow thinking she should've seen it coming made her feel more justified.

It didn't work. She still felt miserable at how she'd acted and what she'd done and not done. The feelings spread over her and her chin threatened to set loose yet again. When would it stop quivering out of the blue?

Control, Quinn, she had to have it.

One step at a time they would figure this out. They would figure it out together and everything would be okay. Everything would be okay.

"Q?" she heard. She turned to her bedroom door as it creaked open and a blonde head popped inside.

"Hey Britt," she smiled and shifted over on the bed. "Come on in."

Brittany grinned that beaming, innocent smile and pranced into the room before flopping herself on Quinn's bed. She sprawled back, stretched out in her Cheerios' sweats, and took a relaxing breath.

"How was practice?"

"Coach Sylvester is trying to kill us," Brittany muttered, "and on the weekend! Surely, that's illegal in Ohio."

"She wouldn't _actually_ hurt you guys. You're her bread and butter."

"She doesn't want to eat us, she wants to kill us. She put me in a human sling shot and the only reason she didn't release me was because Santana hid her cut-the-rope, launching ax."

"Oh."

"Yeah! So instead, she made us run the track and told us we couldn't stop until we got to the end. I passed out before I made it. I never pass out!"

"Wait, the end of what?"

"The track."

"That track is a circle," Quinn said and watched the slow, slow wheels turning behind those bright blue eyes and blonde bangs. After some long, curious seconds, the light flashed behind them.

"You are so right."

"Mhm. Sorry, B. She got you."

"I'm so tired of getting got. It's exhausting," she moaned and curled her head into the crook of Quinn's outstretched arm. Cradling it, Quinn ran her fingers over her best friend's bangs, shuffling a few strands every which direction. She and Brittany became inseparable when everything went down last winter. She was the one glee club member to reach out to Quinn.

But Quinn never expected anything less; Brittany reached out senior year just like she'd reached out in fifth grade during gymnastics. Quinn swirled around the high bar, lost her grip and landed horizontal on the mats below. She hit it, hard, like a pancake to the pan, and after rolling over, she looked up to the bright fluorescent ceiling while groaning and landed on brilliant eyes and an even bigger smile.

"You sound like my uncle Ned after Thanksgiving," were the first words out of Brittany's mouth. Quinn managed to control her groaning and release a giggle. It kicked things off beautifully for them. Brittany's innocence was intoxicating. It fit perfectly with Quinn's zest for life at the time and their athleticism bonded keep them hip to hip for years to come.

The day it ended with Rachel, officially, Brittany showed up and Quinn knew she'd be the one friend from high school who she'd keep with her always. It was as simple as that. There were no games with Brittany. What you see is what you get. Quinn loved never having to doubt, to question, to ponder, to find implications in her actions. There was never a hidden level to analyze.

Brittany gave good love; it was a clear as that. And, frankly, it's all Quinn ever wanted from anyone: good love. So with Britt, she found it very, very easy to return. Their friendship took flight and never faltered, even on days when Sue did everything in her power to break the girl's spirit.

"Look Britt, how about on Friday we steal her Coach of the Year trophy and jello it? We can leave it on her desk Monday morning. How's that sound?"

"What's 'jello it' mean?" Brittany asked.

"We make a big bowl of jello and place the trophy right in the middle before it solidifies."

"Solidifies."

"Turns hard and wiggly. And after, we take the big mold of jiggles, trophy inside, and we set it on her desk," Quinn grinned and Brittany beamed.

"That sounds perfect. I'm game," she smirked, snuggled closer, and let her eyes wander over Quinn's bed. Magazines were strewn about between books, a journal, and piles of clothes. "What exactly are you doing?"

"Absolutely nothing."

"Your 'absolutely nothing' looks a lot different than mine."

"I'm supposed to be picking paint colors for my dorm."

"Hold up, we haven't even graduated yet, Q," she scorned. "Why are you planning for college? It's three months away. Can't we just enjoy the rest of high school, please?"

"Two. It's two months away and because my mom is making me. She thinks it's therapeutic to keep looking forward. They're trying to make me excited about going."

"Still not thrilled about it?"

"Not thrilled about anything, really," she muttered.

"Mhm, that's a lie," Brittany giggled and wriggled her eyebrows. "How did _shopping_ go last weekend with… with Rachel?" Brittany added with hesitation, hoping the old trigger button was finally done. There were so many moments over the past six months where she'd said the girl's name and her friend broke down on the spot. She was never sure what was okay when mentioning "the girl" to Quinn, but the enthusiastic phone call Brittany received the second after Rachel stepped foot out of the VW told her this topic might just be getting a little less touchy feely.

And boy was she happy about that.

She hugged Quinn more in the past, how many days was six months? Six times thirty, sometimes thirty one, carry the zero… No, leave the zero. Carry the one instead and then, wait the zero. Wait, where was she?

Anyway, she hugged Quinn more in the past _lot of days_ than their entire lives. She found her in bathrooms. She found her under the bleachers. She caught her crying in the middle of the night during sleepovers. She even walked in on her in her bathroom once and was more shocked by the fact that she was crying while sitting on the toilet than the fact that she was… sitting on the toilet.

Each time broke her heart a little bit more. It was like watching baby penguins lose their mothers when they migrained across the Antarctica.

Migrained?

Hmm… penguins. They're so cute.

"It was really, really good some moments and really hard others," Quinn finally answered and Brittany nodded in understanding, not really sure what they were talking about originally.

"That's how I feel watching Saved by the Bell," Brittany stated. Quinn stumbled over her thoughts.

"Saved by the Bell?"

"Yeah. Like, it's really good when they do the obstacle course for ROTC week and it's really, really bad when Zach and Kelly break up at prom. It's heart-breaking," she whimpered. Quinn only shook her head.

"Right. Rachel and I are _exactly_ like that."

"She is so Kelly in that relationship," Brittany chuckled.

"That makes me Zach Morris!" Quinn huffed.

"Yeah?"

"I am not Zach Morris."

"You're blonde, snarky, the head haunch, and you could manipulate a piece of dirt if you wanted to! Not to mention your perfect hair. You are so Zach Morris."

Quinn had no words, none.

None, whatsoever.

She rolled her eyes playfully and tightened her grip around the side of the girl's head. She loved the pure comfort her almost-twin gave her. She could stay like that forever. In fact, they spent many nights over the past six months doing just that.

They had lain in Quinn's backyard, in Brittany's driveway, on Coach Sylvester's 50 yard line. Stretched out and scared of the world for two very different reasons, they talked endlessly. They counted stars, they renamed constellations because Quinn couldn't remember them and Brittany didn't understand them. It was as if they took themselves out of the world.

Quinn certainly needed it. And Brittany fluttered wherever she did.

She didn't mind if Quinn took her to the clouds with her, as long as she was with Quinn. In fact, if Quinn was being honest, Brittany was probably the only reason she avoided the mental breakdown post-Rachel. There were so many moments when she almost sank into one, but there was Brittany, ready to shine her innocence and joyful love over Quinn.

Brittany saved her from herself, time and time again. Their friendship was her happy place. And today, on their Saturday afternoon, Quinn couldn't think of anything better.

Well, until the door creaked open and Rachel Berry's head appeared.

_That_ was better.

"Rach!" Brittany squealed. She rolled off the bed, wrapped the brunette in a twirling hug, Rachel squealing as she did so, and then plopped her down.

"Brittany," she mumbled, shyness taking her over with each tuck of a stray hair. "Wow, it's good to hear you, see you, all that stuff."

"You see me in glee all the time!"

"Britt," Quinn warned. She knew glee wasn't the same. Rachel sat in the back, hardly spoke, and tried not to matter. It wasn't the same, not at all.

"No, she's right. You're right. I'm just happy to see you here is all. It's nice," Rachel smiled and walked a bit further into the room she hadn't seen in six months. Every bit of it reminded her of them. She could feel the air escaping her lungs already.

Enter suffocation.

Her eyes caught Quinn's for a tight, heavy second and then found the messy bed.

"Wow! Explosion. What in the world are you doing?"

"She's doing absolutely nothing. Is that what your absolutely nothing looks like?" Brittany questioned. Rachel brought her eyes up to Quinn and watched her shrug with a small smile.

"No, Britt. Mine doesn't look like this. What's going on?"

"Dorm planning."

"So you're going?"Rachel spouted, too quickly and too desperately.

"Who knows?" Quinn muttered and Brittany laughed.

"_You _should know. It's _your_ college, your decision. Why would someone else know?" she chirped. Rachel smirked; couldn't really argue with Britt on that one.

Quinn failed to respond and the silence brought tension over the room. Rachel sat a stray thigh on the edge of the bed and let her eyes fall safely on a few magazine fronts. Otherwise, she'd look around and see picture frames of them, so many godforsaken picture frames. She'd see given presents, notes, Polaroids, and her old clothes.

Magazines were safe, very safe.

Quinn drank her in, eyeing her up and down unabashedly. She was trying so hard not to remember them when everything in the room screamed them. Quinn wanted to grab the racy Polaroid of them kissing off her bulletin board and shove it Rachel's face. Say, "Look what we are! This is what we are! Remember us!"

Brittany perched from her stance about five feet away, watching Rachel trying not to look at Quinn and Quinn unable to avoid looking at Rachel. When were these two going to realize they were each other's lobsters?

God, _this_ was even more exhausting than Coach Syl. Forget it.

"I'm gonna go," she called out.

Both heads whipped her direction. That got their attention!

"Britt, no. You don't have to leave. It's Saturday," Quinn reminded.

"Yeah, but…" she smirked, gesturing slightly to Rachel. The brunette caught the meaning and averted her eyes. She should leave, she knew. She was imposing on their day that used to be _her_ day. She should definitely leave.

So why wasn't she leaving?

Her eyes found the magazines again.

Quinn watched the entire thought process happen across her guilty, but unapologetic face. The blonde wanted to hug that unapologetic face for being unapologetic. _That_ was Quinn's girl. She knew what she wanted and she didn't budge.

Quinn darted her gaze to Britt's and apologized with a look. Brittany rolled her eyes playfully, blew her friend a kiss and winked at Rachel.

"You two have fun. _Please_," she added as she bounced out.

"Thanks, Briiiitt," Quinn called as the door shut her words off.

And again, here they were.

The silence of the empty room settled over them again. Rachel met Quinn's eyes, smiled slightly and then picked up a magazine. It would've been comfortable if not for the extreme awkward elephant in the corner of the room… crying… while touching itself… and singing "Killing Me Softly".

That was an awkward elephant!

They needed normality to be okay.

And they would be okay, Quinn reminded herself. They could do this.

"Hey Rach?"

"Yeah?" she asked and raised her head to Quinn's.

"Wanna take a walk?" Quinn asked, cocking one shoulder up shyly. She had no other ideas or suggestions and they both knew this. Rachel beamed and tossed the magazine down.

"I would love a walk."

When they made it to the park, their park, they fell into their much needed routine: a light stride to the right down the path through the trees to the pond. It's where they always went. Well, it's where they always used to go.

"I haven't been here since last fall when we had that flag football game with the rents," Rachel admitted. "I still hate that game. It ruined my bedazzled flag."

Quinn nodded, holding back the smirk deep inside.

"I, um, came on Thanksgiving."

"Ah."

"Yeah," Quinn muttered.

Geez, could they dance around their issues any more deliberately? It vice gripped her heart and they strolled through the trees, haphazardly kicking up stray leaves and rocks as they went. Rachel's arms crossed over her chest and Quinn's draped at either side. They twitched towards her pockets, craving the comfortable hideout. A bird darted past and landed in the pine tree above.

Rachel's eyes wandered up to it and then fluttered back to the path.

They walked towards the familiar picnic bench and set of wooden swings. They'd spent so many days on those swings. Quinn remembered the summer before junior year when their dating shifted gears into high, way high. They groped each other like the teenagers they were when on that swing. Something about the semi-public spot, the scenery, and the movement of the swing turned them on beyond belief.

Quinn chuckled remembering an elderly woman who walked by one day and caught them. Her eyebrows went RuPaul high and she swiped her little poodle up from the path and stormed off to the parking lot. Quinn freaked out, initially, and began squirming away, but Rachel followed it with, "If you take your hand off my breast you will never put it back," and Quinn forgot all about the woman.

She forgot about a lot of things when it came to Rachel's proximity and her breasts, if she's being honest.

"Do you think we need to talk about stuff?" Rachel asked, interrupting Quinn's beautiful, beautiful thoughts, and meandered her way off the path to sit at the picnic table. Quinn stuffed her hands in her pockets and shrugged. She never knew what to say.

"Like what stuff?"

"I mean, I feel like there has to be a book long list of stuff we need to talk about," Rachel groaned with an exaggerated wave of her arm.

Quinn sat down across the table from her and the fact that she sat down _across _from Racheland not _beside_ Rachel shined a bright, abrasive light on what they were now as opposed to what they used to be.

Neither girl liked it. Did anyone ever like huge, abrasive lights?

"I don't want to make things worse," Quinn confessed. She reached down and picked at a stray piece of wood in the table top. The trees swayed around their little clearing and Quinn gulped down the refreshing air.

"Can we make a pact?" Rachel blurted and then clasped her hands in her lap. They lasted only a few seconds before they were plastering themselves back on the table top.

"Depends," Quinn replied.

"On?"

"…the terms of the pact?"

"Oh, right. How about we pact not to get upset at anything the other says," Rachel spelled out.

"I think that's really easy to say and really hard to execute."

"You're probably right. I just… Quinn, I miss talking. I miss thinking I can tell you anything. I miss rambling and not being afraid. I feel like I'm constantly running thoughts over my tongue before releasing them because I'm scared of how they'll fall on your ears. I don't want to feel like that anymore. How can I fix that? Tell me how to fix that."

Quinn gulped down her pain, swiped at a threatening tear and stretched her shy hand across the table to Rachel's. The girl immediately jerked back and Quinn grabbed those eyes with hers. Not this time, Rach. Not this time.

Rachel felt the anchor instantly.

Her hands slid forward and Quinn took hold.

"I know there's a lot to talk about. Anything you want to say, just say it when you feel it, okay? I don't want you to think you're going to hurt my feelings. We've broken each other to the bone and we both know this. Let's not pretend we haven't been to the bottom of the well and back, okay? So if you want to say stuff, say it. But I'll tell you now, I haven't been happier in the past six months than when I was shopping for sheets with you. It was us and it was fun."

Rachel nodded and Quinn continued with a light squeeze to her hands.

"That's what I want. Let's just be. And we'll talk about things as we go, if that's okay with you?"

"That's okay with me," Rachel smiled. Quinn grinned, gave one last clench to the hands she adored, and then reluctantly released them. The second Rachel's heat vanished Quinn yearned for its return. She gulped it down and away.

"How about you tell me about your speech?" she redirected.

"I'm struggling, actually. I snagged that titled before, well before all this went down, and now I-"

"You feel like a different person."

"Yes!"

"Me too."

"What about _your_ speech?" Rachel countered.

"Written," Quinn stated and bounced her eyebrows once to rub it in.

"How did I know you'd already have yours written?"

"Maybe it's a sign," Quinn chirped and tossed a few stray leaves off the table.

"A sign of what?"

"That I should have been Valedictorian and _you_ should have been Salutatorian," Quinn mocked. Rachel guffawed and smacked the table.

"You have lost your mind! My extra-curricular activities alone blow yours out of the water!"

"It's based on GPA, Short Stack," Quinn taunted with purpose. She needed to push the familiarity no matter how hard it might be in the beginning. It's what would push them back to normal and the only thing that would give them a fighting chance for more.

Thankfully, it worked. For the first time in six months, the nickname felt like warmth over Rachel and not an anvil.

"Well, _Book Worm_," the brunette started with a smile, "if it's based on GPA then you are definitely only Salutatorian material."

"I could've had Valey. And I thought we had graduated Book Worm to Bee for overall cool point-ologies?"

"In your dreams, you nerd- to both counts," Rachel scoffed. "Valedictorian was mine the second I stepped foot in that high school."

Quinn knew _she_ was also Rachel's the second the girl stepped foot into that high school. But that, that was the kind of thing they were not saying out loud. Maybe later? Deathbed material?

"Tell me about your speech," Rachel pushed.

"So you can steal my ideas?"

"Um, you're going _first_; it would be stupid of me to steal your ideas. It would be blatantly obvious that I stole them. This lack of mental awareness is what landed you at Salutatorian in the first place."

Quinn's jaw hit the deck and her grin broke out.

No, what _really_ landed her in second place was her undying love for one Rachel Berry and needing nothing but that beaming smile to breathe. If Rachel was smiling, Quinn was living. Ergo, Quinn _let_ Rachel have Valedictorian.

Rachel shook her head.

"I see what you're doing in your head right now," she spouted. "I see it. I see you justifying this like you gave it to me. Don't even!"

Quinn erupted in laughter, leaning back, setting it free, and grasping her shaking abs. God, she missed this girl.

"See? I knew it," Rachel groaned. "Let's walk. Can we walk? You're too annoying to look at," she smirked and tossed a leaf at Quinn. The blonde stood, rolled her eyes once, and followed Rachel down their regular path.

"Look, I don't want to ruin my speech for you," Quinn answered. "It's an empowering moment and will be big, for both of us, you as a listener and me as a speecher. I don't want to take away from your experience at graduation. Just like I don't want to know what you're going to say before you say it."

"Speecher is not a word, Salutatorian," she quipped with a jab to Quinn's side. The innocent, playful action forced a steam roller over Quinn's heart.

But she gulped that down, too. When would her stomach get full?

She sighed, caught back up to Rachel walking on, and noticed a slight frown spread over that adorable face.

"What is it?"

"It's nothing."

"Speak, woman," Quinn demanded.

"It's just, I was afraid I was going to spend graduation giving a speech to a crowd full of people with not one person among them who cared about me."

Quinn stopped. When Rachel didn't, she reached out, gripped her wrist and pulled her to a stop as well. Electricity stormed through the touch.

"Wait, e-e-explain that." She could ignore the heat, she could.

"I mean, you know. I haven't spoken to anyone but Puck over the past six months. And he's Puck," Rachel added and Quinn cringed against her will. She _still_ cringed. "I was worried I'd be like the ghost of McKinnely giving a speech up there. People would turn and whisper, 'That's the girl who _used_ to sing.' None of them actually know me or care. And you just recently came around. That's why I thought-"

"Wait, I _came around_? Rach, I have not once stopped caring about you."

"Sorry. I didn't mean, I, this is prime example of what I was talking about earlier," she frowned and shyly wriggled free of Quinn's grasp. She needed that hand off her wrist and now. She needed the tingling to stop. "Sorry. I didn't mean it."

"No, I'm sorry," Quinn sighed. "I said to say what you feel. And you did. So!" she gasped in a breath and ran a hand through her hair before craning her head around to find Rachel's eyes. "I will simply say this to that: you'll never give a speech to an auditorium full of people and not have at least _one_ of them care."

"How you figure?"

"Because I will always be there, front and center." Rachel's eyes shot to her anchors, her beautiful bright hazel anchors. "And I imagine you'll be giving a lot of them over your lifetime. I _will_ be there."

How did Rachel think she would be able to move on from this girl and stop loving her? She was deeply naïve.

And before she knew it, she was stepping forward and taking Quinn in her arms. She needed it. She needed it for more reasons that she would ever admit to herself.

"Thank you," Rachel whispered and blinked away the moisture. Both girls twitched awkwardly before Quinn let Rachel fully drape her arms around her. The awkwardness fell away with their inhibitions and Rachel pulled tight, rested her chin on Quinn's shoulder and clung for dear life. "Thank you," she muttered again. "For so many things."

Quinn couldn't believe it; Rachel was wrapped around her and _thanking_ her. Six months ago she was wishing her dead. Now she was thanking her.

All those gulps forced themselves up and she wanted to jerk Rachel in the air, twirl her around, and shout with joy before laying her down, kissing her silly, and reminding her of how they used to love each other.

But no, she should stay calm. She should. Baby steps were the key. She could do this. They could do this.

They could hug. She knew how to hug.

She let her arms wrap around Rachel's waist. Her shoulders rolled in closer. Her head lolled down into Rachel's hair. And last, all her muscles clenched tighter until they were gripping each other for all the reasons built into their DNA.

Rachel breathed her in. If this was what friendship between she and Quinn would be, she had no arguments. She turned her head, buried her face in the familiar neck and gripped firm. She felt Quinn all around her and she never wanted to let her go again. She couldn't handle another six months without these arms as her safety net, without those eyes as her anchors, and without that wit as her levity.

She craved every bit of her. And she knew Quinn craved her, too. She saw it in her eyes. She saw it in the buried reflexes. She saw it in the way those hands twitched into Quinn's pockets just to keep from touching her. Rachel definitely saw it.

And she knew friendship would only last so long. They would either implode for good or find their way home. But this friendship, right here gripped like a heavy sack of potatoes in Quinn's arm, it would suffice for now.

"I'm sorry," Quinn mumbled into her. "I'm so sorry."

"Me too, Bee. Me too."


	11. Chapter 10 HS Summer Before Junior Year

Look at us, we're rolling! Keep letting me know what you think. I love seeing how you look at different things. I enjoy writing in a way that let's you work things out for yourself. I'm not one to spell things out for a reader. So it's great to read your thoughts even more than usual. Enjoy this one! XO Dylan

I'm not sure if you guys want anything else from me in these little prefaces. If you do, holler at me. Otherwise, read read read.

* * *

><p>July - Summer Before Junior Year<p>

_I Vote We Take the Next Left. Where Does It Go? I Don't Know._

"I say we tell them," Rachel piped in from the club chair in the corner. Her long, toned legs hung over one arm and her head lulled back over the other like a ragdoll.

"Sitting: you are doing it wrong," Quinn muttered.

"Conversing: _you _are doing it wrong," she retorted.

"Letting Mom read in peace on Saturday afternoon: you are _both_ doing it wrong," Judy added from the couch. Both girls locked eyes, released quiet snickers and then looked to Judy. "What?" she asked. "Go flirt in your room. The living room is communal territory."

Rachel arched an eyebrow. By definition, that would mean they were all allowed in the living room whenever they so pleased.

"Mrs. Fabray, do you know what communal _means_?" she asked.

"Daughter's Girlfriend, don't you go there," she sing-songed. "We went over this. You don't need to teach me words. I know them all," Judy mumbled and looked over her glasses at the giddy brunette sprawled over Russell's club chair. Rachel beamed and Judy shook her head at the adorable sight. "I hate that you are so stinking cute."

"I know, right?" Quinn huffed.

"It's a burden, trust," Rachel groaned.

"Oh, shut up. And we're not telling them. End of story," the blonde said and Rachel guffawed.

"I am flabbergasted at the fact that you won't even consider it!"

Judy rolled her eyes. "I am _flabbergasted_ that you can work words like flabbergasted into regular conversation," she mumbled. Both girls shot her amused eyes and then turned their attention back to each other. Quinn uncrossed and crossed her feet over the coffee table before flicking through the channels a bit more.

"Quinn."

"Raaachel," she hummed and continued flicking.

"Can we put the remote down?"

"Can we?"

"Will you?" Rachel groaned. Quinn rolled her eyes, clicked the tv off and gave Rachel her undivided attention.

"I am listening, my dear highness."

"And totally whipped," Judy mumbled, eyes still in her book.

Quinn gasped and launched a pillow at her mother's face. It landed hard dead center. Judy froze and slowly peeled her face to Quinn's, her glasses hanging lopsided off her nose. It was a look of sheer serial killer.

"Ugh…" Quinn stuttered under the glare.

"You are so in trouble," Rachel chimed in.

"Never. Again," Judy warned and pushed her glasses back on straight, still shooting lasers into her daughter.

"Yes ma'am," she muttered and her mom released her from the stare.

Rachel chuckled and Judy threw her a wink before returning to her book. Quinn gulped down the offense, rolling her eyes at a smirking Rachel.

"You were saying," the blonde pushed.

"I was saying I think it's okay to tell everyone about us. I mean, look at your parents. If Papa Russ can overcome, so can our friends. No offense, Judy."

"None taken," she muttered, eyes still in her book. Somehow though, she didn't think her book would ever be as entertaining as these two. What was more entertaining about Jason Johnstone romancing Sophie Summers in the magical land of Cape Cod than her petulant daughter and her petulant daughter's verbose girlfriend arguing over coming out of the closet?

Case closed, Judy chuckled to herself.

"Rach, I just don't think it's smart. I mean, can you imagine the boys? I have dated both Finn and Puck and all they are going to do is leer at us!"

"You're right… you have dated Puck, and Finn, and Jimmy, and Mark, and Sean, and-"

"Todd."

"Mother!"

"And Todd!" Rachel gasped. "And _me_! Quinn Fabray, look at you go. Who knew my girlfriend was such a stud?"

"Seriously? Did you just call me a _stud_? I am not a stud like some bulldyke, Rachel."

"Quinn!" Judy shrieked. "I'm not comfortable with you saying things like that."

"Yeah, Quinn," Rachel prodded. "At least say earmuffs."

"Earmuffs?" Judy questioned. "I don't know what that means, but no! No earmuffs necessary because you are not to say things like that. That's inappropriate."

"It's just a term, mother."

"A vulgar one at that! You will be respectful."

"To bulldykes?" Quinn chuckled.

"Yes. To, to, to all members of all communities in all the-"

"Laaaands," Rachel sang. Quinn erupted in laughter and Judy huffed.

"You two are impossible."

"I wasn't meaning it to be offensive, Mom. I'm sorry if it sounded that way. There are types of gay women and I'm just not the more masculine type. That's all I meant. I'm not a stud."

"If you're not a stud, then it means you get around. Which would you prefer to be, baby?" Rachel giggled.

"Can we chalk this up to me being a confused teen? I was all buried in my supposed hatred for you and drowning in weird feelings and so I-"

"Channeled those feelings into making out with boys?"

"I don't need this imagery," Judy mumbled from her book.

Ever since the girls sat her down a few weeks ago and it went better, far better, than either had imagined, they opened the floodgates around her. They acted like nothing was out of bounds and on one hand, Judy was really happy about it. On the other, it created one awkward situation after the next.

Especially today, both girls were still reeling from their conversation with Russ last night. He managed to contain his threats, screaming, and overall intimidation into one line: "I'm disappointed. But not because… of who you are… but because you didn't think you could tell me."

He went on to tell the girls it would be a hard, rough road ahead with him. He needed time to adjust to it. They needed to give him the time. After all, they'd had their time to adjust. Quinn had her six months to understand it, Rachel had four months to get used to it, and Judy had now spent three weeks adjusting. He deserved his time as well.

The girls beamed. They could definitely, absolutely, positively give him the time he deserved. When Quinn and Rachel walked away from the conversation bruise-less, it was considered a success.

Russell meandered up to his bedroom, sat down on the trunk at the foot of the four post bed and sighed into his palms.

All Judy could do was sit beside him.

And now, today, Rachel wanted to take that victory and spread the joy. She thought it was time to tell their friends, their classmates, and the world. Judy didn't blame her. If Russell could look at them as humans, however distraught and disappointed inside, then so could their friends, right?

"I think it's a good idea, Quinn," Judy decided to add to the conversation, finally looking up from her book. Rachel shot to her feet, one arm stretched out pointing at Judy while beaming at Quinn.

"Your mother! Your mother is on my side!"

"She is always on your side, you troll," the blonde groaned and tossed pillows over herself, burrowing down into the couch. She just wanted the conversation to go away, far away.

Rachel laughed at the pathetic sight, walked over and sat herself down on the pillows on Quinn's stomach. She leaned back into them and sighed.

"Couch is comfy," she winked at Judy and Quinn groaned from below.

"That's what she gets for calling you troll, huh?"

"Mhm!" Rachel chirped with a grin to light the room.

"Trolls are cute and cuddly!" came huffing out from below the pillows. Rachel shifted around, digging in harder.

"No, they have freak-of-nature hair, wear no tops, and are creepy!"

"…You said it," Quinn mumbled. Rachel gasped and ripped the pillow off Quinn's face, leaning in close and scowling.

"Don't make me hurt you in front of your mother," she warned.

"Don't let _me_ stop you," Judy muttered.

"Look at that, even your mother…"

"Rachel," Quinn pleaded, her eyes falling seriously vulnerable and darting away. The brunette watched fear transpose itself across the blonde's face and she leaned down into the pillow-free hole.

"Hey."

"What?"

"It will be okay," she whispered and placed a light kiss to Quinn's lips. "I promise you it will be okay."

"You don't know that," Quinn sighed, barely audible and full of doubt.

"I do, because no matter what I'll be right here. You will be right here."

"I'll be here, too," Judy added, ripping their attention out of the hole. Rachel turned to give her a thankful nod and then landed her gaze back down on Quinn.

"She'll be here, too. And my dads, too, love. That's a lot of people."

"I just need a little more time. Please? The boys, they'll just be so dirty. I can't let them be dirty about you. I can't handle that yet," she pleaded.

Rachel's heart exploded.

"So this isn't you being scared to come out?"

"God, no! Wait, is that what you thought?" she gasped and sat up out of the hole. Rachel shifted over her and landed directly in her lap, pillows falling away around them and Quinn's arms lacing over her midriff.

"Well, I mean…" Rachel stumbled and tucked a stray hair.

"I don't care who knows I'm gay, Rach. I'm so gay. I am very, very, very-"

"We get it," Judy interjected.

"Gay," Quinn finished with a chuckle. "There's no doubt. But I'm not quite ready to lay you out on a platter to the world."

Rachel smiled. Her _hero_.

"So then we'll go to the party as friends like normal," Rachel decided and gave a kiss to her girlfriend's cheek.

"Sounds perfect."

"Great! That's settled! So go get ready!" Judy dramatically encouraged.

"It's not until tonight, Mom," Quinn said and dropped her head onto Rachel's shoulder.

"I just can't catch a break," she uttered and lost herself in her book again. At least Jason and Sophie could get a room, she sighed. And as she watched Quinn snuggle into Rachel and kick on the tv, she realized it would be a long, long afternoon. And frankly, if she was being honest, Judy wouldn't have it any other way.

The party that night moved into full swing quickly. Rachel watched Quinn fend off advances from each of the Brady Bunch list of boys she'd dated previously. How a sixteen year old acquired such a list in so little time, she didn't know. Whatever, it didn't matter. _She_ landed Quinn.

That's all that mattered.

Music pounded, teenagers danced, idiots drank, and horndogs made out against every other surface in view. She and Quinn currently took up the right side of the entertainment room's couch. Brittany and Santana took up the left side and in the middle of the room, Tina and Mike did their best to work their way out of last place in the current game of Taboo.

No one ever beat Rachel and Quinn. It really disturbed the rest of the glee club. The supposed enemies flipped a switch one day sophomore year and had been attached at the hip ever since. No one had the balls to question Quinn about it, nor the want to question Rachel about it, fearing the long-winded diatribe that would probably result.

So they watched from afar, as if watching two creatures of opposite species try to conjoin themselves. There was something fascinating about it.

Even in the most closed quarters, nothing seemed off. They could sit on a couch together, almost on top of each other, and seem to think nothing of it.

They had no idea what to make of it.

And Rachel only smirked.

She knew nobody knew she and Quinn's secret and that turned her on. Well, their parents did, and they found that was all that mattered. Quinn felt guilty about not telling Brittany yet, but that day would come.

Until then, Rachel got moments like _this_:

She dropped her left arm between them on the overstuffed couch and let it slide deep into the cushion. She watched Quinn in her peripheral vision, while keeping her attention on Mike and Tina, and pushed back further. And then she slid it to the left and found the bottom of Quinn's shirt and the top of her shorts.

Bulls-eye!

She ran her fingers slowly over the bare skin and then dipped two beneath the tip of the blonde's underwear.

One of Quinn's eyebrows arched up. That's all that changed. Rachel smirked, pulled her fingers back and then slid them north up her girl's back. Goosebumps followed in their wake and Quinn shivered.

"Hmm," Rachel chirped. Quinn cocked a half-smile in her direction, gave her a barely noticeable shake of the head, and groaned inwardly. Rachel couldn't go there now. She _wouldn't_ go there now. It would be horribly tortuous. She wasn't that-

Rachel danced her fingers over Quinn's bra clasp.

Okay, so she _would_ go there now. She _was_ that mean.

"Tease," Quinn muttered.

Rachel didn't respond. Instead, she placed five nailed fingertips to Quinn's skin and dragged them roughly down her back.

Quinn moaned and shot forward, three feet off the couch, and Rachel discreetly slid her hand back into her side. Tina, Mike, Brittany, and Santana whipped to her shivering form, jaws agape and curiosity abounding.

"What's wrong with you?" Santana barked.

"Um, nothing. Nothing at all. I think I'm going to, um, go to the bathroom," Quinn forced out, shot Rachel a glare and then headed to the half bathroom down the hall.

"She okay?" Brittany asked.

"Fine," Rachel grinned. "We had tacos for dinner at her place. It's probably creating a rather uncomfortable acid reflux situa-"

"God, midget, that's more information than we need," Santana snapped. "Chang Squared, get on with it! We're next and we're bringin' the heat."

Rachel rolled her eyes and glanced down the hallway at Quinn's back. She stopped at the bathroom, swirled around to lock seductive eyes on Rachel's and then cocked her head towards the door before giving a come-hither finger.

Rachel's jaw dropped.

She pointed to herself.

Quinn rolled her eyes and nodded before mouthing, "Yes, you, stupid!"

Rachel switched the pointed finger to her middle and thrust it at Quinn. The blonde grinned wide and stepped into the bathroom with a wink.

Brittany watched it happen with curiosity.

It was weird.

They were almost… flirting. Rachel and Quinn were… flirting? Suddenly, cheers and claps erupted and the commotion knocked her thoughts out of whack.

"It's us now, Britt!" Santana hollered and pulled them up off the couch. Tina and Mike counted their points while the girls rose and in the mess of regrouping seats and resetting the cards for the Cheerios, Rachel snuck off the couch and down the hall.

She paused at the closed bathroom door and gave a few careful glances around. The boys were playing pong in the kitchen. The couples on the stairs were tongue-deep and not giving a care in the world. Brittany and Santana started their round with a bang, claps and shouts blasting from the crowd.

And then it didn't matter because Rachel's shirt was gripped and yanked forward, propelling her into the bathroom. The door slammed behind her and instantly, she was pinned against it with Quinn's smothering body.

Those addictive lips found hers and probed them apart. Quinn's tongue dipped inside to taste and then snuck back out. Their lips melded and pulled against each other. Hands gripped stray body parts. Moans escaped and overall need shot through the roof.

Rachel let the pool of heat between her legs take her over. If men could think with their penises, she could think with her vagina. She thrust her hips forward and Quinn slammed her right back into the door.

Oh, _wow_. That was new and so delicious.

She thrust forward again, Quinn's shorts rubbing the most perfect friction against her own. And then the blonde pinned her again. Those hands dug into her long brown hair, gripping, pulling and yanking.

That's, that's, that's…

Rachel wanted her. She wanted her _now_.

"Why are we not having sex?" she moaned into the blonde's mouth and sucked her tongue between her lips. She gave it the royal treatment and then released.

"Because we are in Mrs. Puckerman's powder room and god, I love when you do that," she breathed and attached her lips to Rachel's neck. She loved that neck. She dreamt of it. She wanted it to twitch and stretch and beg for her. She ran her tongue up the length of it, pulled the collar of Rachel's t-shirt away and bit down hard.

"Oh god," Rachel groaned. "Don't mark me."

"I'll mark you all I want. It's under your shirt."

"Oh, then by all means…" she whimpered and Quinn bit her again before rubbing her hips back into Rachel's. They bumped into the door over and over, fighting for more friction, and she wondered if anyone on the other side could tell what was happening.

Rachel wanted more of it. She needed more of it. She ran her fingers back under Quinn's shirt and felt the raised, streaking welts her scratches caused. She ran her soft fingertips over them gingerly.

"Sorry," she purred and caressed.

"Don't be," Quinn growled.

"Kinky girl."

"Mhm, for you."

"So tell me again why we are not having sex? And I mean in general?" Rachel pushed against her, slid both hands underneath Quinn's shorts into her underwear and palmed bare cheeks to pull her in tighter. And this time, because she was a quick learner if she was anything, she parted her legs over Quinn's thigh and the girl's thrust hit just right.

Just, just right. Oh, god.

Both girls released moans and collapsed against the door. Quinn's hands splayed above Rachel's head, gripping the wood of the door, and her face buried in the girl's luscious hair.

"I have no idea why we are not having sex," Quinn finally answered.

"I want to," Rachel breathed and let her head fall back against the door. She pulled tighter on Quinn's ass, yanking their centers together once more. "I'm ready and I really, really want to."

"Do sixteen year olds have sex?" Quinn mumbled and let Rachel manipulate their hips together over and over again. The need burned from that spot outward. It overtook every nerve of her body and all she wanted was to feel what it felt like when it exploded. She'd heard so much about it. She wanted it and wanted it now, but were they too young?

"I don't know, baby. You're the only one I've ever even kissed. Does it look like- oh wow, that feels- does it, does it look like I know what sixteen year olds are supposed to be doing?"

"Right now? _Yes_," Quinn moaned and pushed her thigh up and into Rachel. She yelped, ripped her hands free and gripped Quinn's shoulders to hold on.

Quinn took that to mean it was good.

She was kind of smart.

So she threw her thigh up again, pushing Rachel up the door an inch or so and then let her back down. Sparks shot through the brunette and Quinn pulled her head off the girl's shoulder to watch her.

She needed to watch her.

Rachel curled her hips forward on Quinn's thigh and the short shorts jumbled between her legs rolled perfectly against her sex. Her eyes lulled back in her head and her mouth gaped open.

So _that's_ what it was all about, Rachel mused, and peeled her eyes back open as Quinn pressed into her again, pushing her a bit further up the door and then letting her slide back down.

Rachel was absolutely gorgeous when in such need, so gorgeous and moaning and biting her lips and dancing her tongue over her teeth. And then those sultry, black eyes landed on hers.

Quinn froze.

"What?" Rachel questioned, missing the sudden lack of _anything._

"Ugh, I, that's, you just look like… like sooo sexy," Quinn tried… and failed. Come on, Bee, be the stud Rachel saw.

"You look really shocked," the brunette moaned and rolled again, encouraging her. "Come on, don't stop."

It didn't take anything more. Quinn pushed forward, attached her lips to Rachel's and pressed her firmly into the door. Their breasts smothered each other, their tongues dueled and their hips clashed.

It was all building to such a foreign and spectacular place in the middle of the freaking sun. God, it was hot. Why was her skin so hot?

Rachel needed it.

Quinn craved it. It was all right, right there. She burned.

"Seriously," Quinn moaned, "why are we not having sex?"

"I don't know, but sounds like you two already started," Brittany called from the other side of the door.

They shot apart, Rachel's head slamming into the door and Quinn's foot catching the small trashcan to send her toppling into the corner. She grasped for anything she could and landed awkwardly halfway across the toilet and halfway into the corner with a loud crash.

Rachel groaned and gripped the back of her throbbing head as Quinn swung extremities around trying to catch any semblance of balance she could.

"Okay, well it used to sound like you were! Sorry if I ruined that!" Brittany added. "I just came to tell you it's your turn. And also to catch you macking on each other. I so knew it!"

"We need to talk to her. Now," Quinn whispered at Rachel and yanked herself to her feet. With a huff she steadied herself, every bit of her throbbing in horrible, aching, and frustrating ways.

"I won't tell, you guys," Brittany added again. "Are you still there?"

Rachel turned around, creaked open the door and caught sight of the girl's sweet face. Quinn stepped in view behind Rachel and her scared eyes met Brittany's harmless ones. In one look, all agreed.

"Thanks, Britt," Quinn smiled.

"No problem, best friend. But details, I need details. And I'm serious. The good stuff, the bathroom stuff."

"Nothing happened," Rachel retorted. Brittany smirked and looked down to her bunched shorts and Quinn's own hanging half off her ass, underwear pulled tight.

"Right," Brittany smirked. "Nothing happened. Come on out, it's your turn. And this time, you will lose."  
>"We never lose!" Rachel snapped.<p>

Brittany arched an eyebrow.

"If we win, Santana is happy. So… yes, you_ will_ lose… or else."

"That's blackmail!" the brunette shrieked. Quinn reached forward, smacked a hand over Rachel's chatty mouth and nodded to Britt.

"Not a problem," she told her. The cheerleader grinned like mad and bounced back towards the living room. Quinn pulled Rachel back six inches and let the door close. She rotated and Quinn dropped her hand away.

"You just smacked a hand over my mouth!"

"This is true. You are very observant," she gushed and turned her attention to the mirror. Oh hell. She was an absolute hormonal mess. She straightened her hair, fixed her shirt and shorts and then turned back to Rachel.

She hadn't moved. Quinn rolled her eyes, stepped forward and fixed Rachel up as well. She ran fingers through her hair, placed a kiss on her forehead, tugged her shirt back on straight, and then slowly slid two fingers up between her legs to grip the edge of her shorts, briefly pausing to run them over her damp underwear.

Rachel whimpered.

And Quinn forced herself to finish, pulling the shorts down to straighten them out. Rachel's eyes fluttered shut and her head lulled back. The small action caused more pain than anything. Quinn wanted inside there and Rachel needed more, so much more.

That day would come.

Hopefully freaking soon.

Quinn grinned and placed a light kiss over the stagnant lips.

"We are so having sex soon," she whispered, kissed her again and opened the bathroom door. "Because I want that and inside there, so, _so_ bad. You have no idea what you do to me. I'm soaked right now."

Rachel's jaw hit the floor.

And Quinn cocked an eyebrow in amusement before skipping off to the living room. Rachel collapsed backwards, causing the door to slam shut again. She heaved a frustrated sigh and her wanting eyes found nothing but an empty bathroom staring back at her.

God, her girlfriend was hot, so freaking hot.

"Stupid stud," Rachel murmured, rolled her eyes and headed back to the party. "Such a stupid, stupid, stupid, stupid,_ sexy_ stud…"


	12. Chapter 11 HS Senior Year May

May - Senior Year

_Can We Stop for the Sunset?_

Growing up, Rachel knew this day would come. Just as she knew an EGOT was in her future, she knew she would one day be standing on a stage and speaking to her graduating class as their Valedictorian.

It was as right as putting milk in your cereal.

And today, it all came to fruition.

Her speech didn't come easy. It took an entire week full of nights with Dad and Smokey Robinson and musings to get it right. They combed through ideas over and over. It was as if the entire thing eluded her until the second it stopped eluding her.

It was as clear as… well, putting milk in your cereal.

She had her speech. She had her point. She had her life wisdom for her fellow graduates. There was one thing she learned in the past six months of pain and she would proudly pass it on today.

She took a deep breath and glanced over herself in the mirror once more. Her long, brown hair fell beautifully over her red gown and somehow, she'd manage to pull off the capped look as well. Who was she kidding? She was Rachel Berry; _of course_ she pulled it off.

"Rach?"

She turned towards the cracked door. A bright smile and blonde hair beamed back at her.

"Hey!"

"Can I come in?"

"It's a public restroom, Quinn."

"I'm being polite."

"You're never polite," Rachel smirked. Quinn chuckled shyly and walked into the bathroom. Rachel looked beautiful. She glowed like she used to. Her face always was the brightest thing she knew. She missed seeing it over the past six months.

"You look beautiful," she whispered before she could stop it.

Rachel's attention left the mirror and landed on Quinn. The blonde's hair was pulled back loose at the base of her neck and curved nicely around her left shoulder. Her gold chain and diamond cross shined brilliantly over her sternum and the red gown brought out the blush in her cheeks.

And there were those hazel eyes.

God, those eyes.

"And you, you of course look radiant," Rachel grinned. "Always do."

"Thank you. My dad has already cried," she laughed. "Yours?"

"Twice," Rachel giggled and turned to rest against the sink counter. She crossed her arms over her chest and took a relaxing breath. "And Judy? How's she holding up?"

"We've been through three box cameras already."

"Box cameras? She still hasn't purchased a digital camera after the fiasco of the Homecoming dance junior year?"

"You know she's scared of technology."

"Gah, that woman kills me," Rachel groaned. Quinn nodded with a smile.

Comfortable silence fell over them and Quinn wondered how this day would've gone had last October and November never happened. Would they be making love right now, a quickie before show time? Would they be ecstatic?

Would they be set to take off on a small road trip before Rachel hit Julliard's summer program like they had always planned? Would they be-

"Ready for your speech?" Rachel asked.

"Ready to_ follow_ my speech?" she joked.

"Baby, Rachel Berry is always the main act. She follows _everyone_," Rachel beamed and then froze, her words rolling back over in her mind. She saw it in Quinn's eyes. It'd hit her like a ton of bricks.

_Baby._

Those cloudy eyes ripped open and a flood of love expelled itself.

And_ there_ was her Quinn.

Rachel should kiss her. She should. Be the Rachel Berry who lives for drama and the moment and the applause and _kiss her_. Look at her, she wants it. She's biting her lip and darting those eyes. And god, she could hear her heart pounding. Or was it her own? She didn't know. They stopped beating separate hearts two years ago.

Step forward and kiss her.

Easy as that: one, step forward, two, kiss her. It would be easy and it would feel like heaven laced with chocolate surrounding an Oscar.

Oh, god.

But the pain, the abandonment, the guilt, those _lips_…

"Rachel, darling, are you-" Hiram interrupted from the cracked door, his eyes falling tightly on the blonde. "Oh. Quinn," he finished. The girls stepped apart, unnecessary guilt flooding over them. Quinn swiped at her lips as if she needed to wipe them clean.

She'd practically felt the kiss.

She'd almost died waiting for it.

"Hi, Mr. H."

"How are you?" he asked, stepping fully into the women's restroom without a care in the world as he squared his shoulders at her.

She gulped.

"I'm managing."

"Dad," Rachel warned. Hiram eyed his daughter and took her plea to heart. He wanted nothing more than to rip into the blonde; he'd never fully gotten his piece. But parents don't rip into children, do they?

Do they?

What about children who aren't their own?

He wanted to so badly. He watched this girl let Rachel flounder to the point of destruction and she didn't do a thing about it. And she called that love?

"Rachel, we should go," he said. "It's about time. Your class is lining up to walk in."

"Thanks, we'll be out in a second."

"Hurry," he encouraged, eyed Quinn once more and then left them. Quinn released the breath she didn't realize she was holding. That man terrified her, absolutely terrified her.

"You don't need to be scared of him," Rachel said.

"Pretty sure I do. He always looks like he wants to rip my arms off and play that arcade game on me."

"Huh?"

"You know, the one where you stand there with the big whack-a-doodle thing and smash the monster's head when it pops out of each hole. You just smack it and smack it and smack it and-"

"Quinn! My father does not want to whack-a-doodle you."

"Pft," she huffed. "I bet that's not what _he_ would say."

"Why don't you go ask him," Rachel smirked. "And we can put this little debate to rest."

Quinn arched an eyebrow at the challenge, cocked a smile and almost headed out the door just to prove the girl wrong. But then images of Hiram Berry's fiery eyes the day he kicked her out of their house came flooding back to her. His words, his daggers, his forbidding her of all things Rachel: it sent rockets of fear throughout her instantly.

It was quite possibly one of the worst days of her life.

And suddenly, she could barely breathe just thinking about it. She placed a hand over her eyes and took a steadying breath.

"I was kidding!" Rachel gasped and touched a comforting hand down on the blonde's shoulder. "I'm kidding. You don't have to talk to Dad."

Quinn dropped her hand off her eyes and swallowed the images.

"We should go. We have speeches to give," she muttered. Rachel gave her forearm a tight squeeze and released a dazzling smile.

"Impress me."

"It's all I ever want," Quinn admitted, turned to the door and left.

And with that, graduation was upon them.

The football field beamed in the afternoon sunshine. Students sweated beneath their gowns, smiled in the fresh air, and joked amongst themselves in the crowd. Folding chairs lined up in two sections over the field, rows of twenty across and fifteen deep.

Rachel sat beside Quinn on stage looking out over their graduating class glowing in red and the stands full of supporters behind them. It was the day. Today they would officially be free of McKinnely. She never thought it would happen. They were about to be set free.

She and Quinn would be set free.

Could they make it in the real world? Were they that kind of couple? Were they high school sweethearts who couldn't handle real life? They had imploded at the first major life incident. Maybe they weren't meant for real life. Maybe they were meant to be first loves and that's it.

She looked to her right at the blonde.

Quinn looked back.

Everything faded away. Principal Figgins introduced some other speaker and people were cheering. Some music was playing. Some birds were chirping.

But all she saw was Quinn, sitting beside her where it seemed she was always meant to be. Rachel remembered sitting beside her on their first date in the back of that god awful truck, looking at her face and taking her in, so young and vibrant and smitten.

This Quinn was worn, weathered, matured, and striking as ever.

Their history displayed over her face, written in the wrinkles, smile lines and frown lines. Their love gleamed in her eyes. The cloudy grey had exploded in the bathroom earlier and remained gone.

Rachel felt her heart pick up. Her hands started shaking.

Her love for Quinn erupted in that moment, one of the biggest moments of their lives and she was spending it next to the person she was always meant to spend it with.

Quinn slid her hand to the left across their gowned laps and laced her fingers through Rachel's. The speaker spoke, the crowd cheered, and Rachel had no idea what was going on besides that she was still head over heels in love with Quinn.

And Quinn was still head over for her.

And then Figgins was introducing Quinn, their 2011 Salutatorian. Her fingers slid free of Rachel's, her gaze unlocked and her knees took her to her feet and her feet took her to the podium.

Her glazy, Rachel-rosy eyes landed on the thousand plus crowd staring back at her. They cheered, clapped, and watched with eager and expectant eyes. This was her moment to make a difference. This was her moment to make Rachel proud. This was her moment to turn them on a new track.

She looked back over her shoulder at the brunette.

Rachel grinned, confidence and support in Quinn draining from every ounce of her. She pulled her hands up and clapped like she'd never clap again.

Quinn took a breath and turned back to the crowd. They settled and waited. This was it. She swallowed, leaned into the mic, and began:

"It's been a big year for me, as most of you already know. I sat in my room a month ago working on this speech, digging into myself to pull out the message I ultimately wanted to leave with our class of 2011," she spoke. She could feel the crowd attaching themselves to her every word.

"I looked back over our time here, all of us. Whether you were a Cheerio, a Mathlete, a jock, or in glee, we all dealt with the same stuff. And we all had to overcome. That's what high school, and the past year specifically, has taught me: we overcome," she emphasized.

Rachel watched from behind, her heart pounding in her chest at every word as the blonde continued.

"We overcome failure. We overcome tragedy. We overcome heart break. We overcome the world not being fair. "Fair" is now a word that can't exist in our vocabularies. Twenty minutes from now, and by definition, we are all adults. Life will continue to throw us problems, challenges, mountains and molehills.

"And I'm here to encourage you to overcome them. We will be a class of action and courage and bravo. We will attack life. Because, my friends, we only get one chance at this- and that chance starts now."

Rachel swiped a tear, her pride bubbling over.

"I want us to take our memories from high school and learn from them. I want us to never speak the word "fair" because it doesn't exist to us anymore, it doesn't matter to us anymore, because we are too busy overcoming.

"We are too busy living life. We will live like we mean it. We will overcome anything it throws us. We will be a force to be reckoned with. We will be the people we dream of seeing when we look in the mirror every morning. We will live passionately because we can't live otherwise. We will have heart because they pound so freely. We will overcome because we don't how _not _to," she finished with a smile. "We will be the class who doesn't know how to live without enthusiasm.

"We will try, we will pound away, and we will overcome. Simply because we are those people- we _are _who we see in the mirror and we make ourselves proud," she finished. "So go out in the world, make your presence known, and make me proud to be your Salutatorian. Thank you and congratulations."

The crowd roared, hitting their feet and slamming their hands together, but none louder than the tiny brunette ten feet back and to her left. She heard the pounding and felt the pride. She nodded thanks to the crowd, smiled wide and leaned back into the mic.

"And now, in what will be one of many throughout her life, I will introduce the incomparable Rachel Berry, your 2011 Valedictorian and my best friend. Give her a hand."

The crowd erupted again with an applause Rachel wasn't expecting. Did these people actually care about her? Had Quinn made them care? The blonde turned around at the podium and walked towards Rachel. With a sturdy hand to her shoulder, Quinn leaned in and placed a kiss on her cheek.

"Knock 'em dead, superstar," she whispered and took her seat.

Rachel's feet took her to the podium. She gave Quinn one last glance and closed her eyes, letting the applause from these people roll over her.

It cooled her insides, stilled her veins and instilled her with confidence. She opened her eyes, stepped up to the mic and found words:

"How about that Quinn Fabray?" she smiled and the crowd roared. She looked back to Quinn as the sound pounded over them. The blonde beamed. Rachel nodded, winked, and turned back around to the screaming crowd. "Yeah, I agree. I definitely agree," she giggled as they settled.

She cleared her throat, straightened her note cards and prayed these words sounded as right coming out of her mouth as they had in her head.

"My speech didn't come to me as easily as Quinn's, unfortunately. I was honored with the Valedictorian status months ago when it was determined none of you would catch me," she joked and Quinn rolled her eyes. "But that was before my life changed." The crowd silenced below her, as if they had just dropped out the secret hatch in the football field.

She gulped.

"I feel like a different person, some ways good and some ways bad. Life is funny like that. It takes you on its back and you're expected to ride it willingly, no matter what. The good mixes with the bad, the big with the small.

"And somehow, we as teenagers have trouble distinguishing between these feelings. Minute issues seem like the end of the world. Our emotions run wild and we so easily lose ourselves. We lack perspective by default.

"I learned a lesson this year about that word: perspective. When you can let the small things be small things and the unimportant things be unimportant, life makes a lot more sense. It almost becomes easier, more fun. You find yourself putting your energy into the good and only the good.

"This is how life is meant to be, I learned," she choked out and swallowed back the tears that threatened. Quinn gripped the sides of her chair beneath her gown and Rachel continued.

"I had to lose my daddy, Leroy, in order to learn this valuable lesson. He was, he was taken from our family last November, six months ago," her chin quivered. She swallowed her tears. She could do this, she could finish, finish for Daddy. "And through this tragedy, I also, I also lost the love of my life," she shrugged dejectedly through tears. "There's nothing like finding yourself with nothing to live for to give you perspective."

She took a breath.

"Don't wait for that kind of loss to start living. Learn from my experiences. Let me leave that with you all. Have perspective, laugh with your friends, love purely, and live honestly. _Forgive_ each other. Give second chances. Chase your dreams. See the world, there is so much out there," she smiled.

Quinn swiped at the tears streaking down her cheeks.

"Have perspective for what matters in this life. Family matters. Friends matter. Laughing, dreaming, and levity matter." She looked back at Quinn and then back to the crowd. "Our, our _hearts_ matter," she whimpered over her own tears. "Focus on these things and your life will be _about_ what matters. And that's all you'll ever need.

"A girl once told me something that has since taken up residency in my heart. And I want to share that with you all today. She said, 'Today was better than yesterday. Let's make tomorrow better than today. That's all I know and all I need to know.' That's it."

Quinn released the rest of the tears. Rachel swiped hers clean and took a steadying breath.

"I'll leave you with her words, class of 2011, because they were always better than mine. Let's have perspective. Let's live for what matters. And let's make tomorrow better than today. For us, for the ones we love, and for our future generations. We have the power. Let's make the world proud," she boasted.

"Congratulations and thank you."

There was an eruption of applause and adoration.

And there was nothing else.


	13. Chapter 12 Junior Year September

September - Junior Year

_That Was a Stop Sign You Just Blew Through_

"Yes _that_, more of that," she moaned towards Rachel's ceiling, her head flung back, and her hands gripping Rachel's hands as they kneaded her breasts from below. She really, really seemed like she knew what she was doing.

Rachel rolled her hips forward and watched Quinn rise up in unison while straddling them. The blonde dug her nails into Rachel's hands and bit her lip in response.

Ohh, that lip. She's biting that lip. Rachel wanted to bite that lip. Rachel wanted to do all sorts of things to that lip. What kind of things could she do to that lip?

The brunette moved her fingers over nipples and squeezed.

Quinn groaned; Rachel _definitely_ knew how to touch a breast.

How did she know how to touch a breast?

"You're so good at this," she moaned and Rachel grinned, kneaded a bit more and ran her thumbs in circles over each nipple.

Just like washing Daddy's car: left and right and then squeeze the sponge dry. It was totally working. She could do this. She could have sex with a girl and seem like she knew what she was doing!

Rachel Berry could play the part!

She watched Quinn's bare neck, collar bone and chest twitch above her while stretched out and slung back. She was beautiful. Rachel slid her hands out from under Quinn's, releasing the girl's breasts, and dragged her hands down her bare front, her eyes trailing along with them. She left red streaks over those glorious abs and landed at the top of Quinn's jeans.

Jeans.

Yes, yes, she wanted inside there.

She looked back up to Quinn and froze at what she saw.

Quinn was _rubbing_ her own breasts. Oh god, she was rubbing her _own_ breasts. Rachel rolled her hips up roughly and Quinn rocked up off the bed. The jeans felt delicious against her thong. They were so, so close to being naked if not for her top and Quinn's jeans- and their underwear, of course.

Would the underwear come off today? Please say it would come off today; it was time to make them come off today.

"Bee," Rachel husked.

"Yeah?"

"Can I, can I take off your jeans?"

"Why are you even asking?" she groaned and collapsed forward onto the girl below her. She ran one hand through that long, dark hair and attached their lips. They dueled like they always did, of course. Their personalities demanded they be in control and this time, Quinn won. She slid a hand up Rachel's front, gripped her jaw to keep her in place and then she kissed the daylights out of her.

She pulled Rachel's lips apart, slipped her tongue inside, and nibbled on that pout. She assaulted every ounce of her mouth and Rachel was powerless to do anything but let it happen. She lay there and took it.

That is, until she remembered she had hands.

What, sometimes kissing Quinn Fabray made her forget things.

She took her free hand, pushed it down between them, and roughly gripped between Quinn's legs. The blonde gasped and caved in on the pillow beside Rachel's head, causing Rachel to smirk and grip harder, rubbing tightly over her even tighter jeans.

"Off, take them off," Quinn demanded. She sunk her teeth into Rachel's shoulder and ground her hips down. Her ass rubbed perfectly over Rachel's thong.

And Rachel found it quite, quite, quite-

Oh wow.

Rachel wanted to, um- wanted to- no, _needed_- well wanted to, too- but needed- oh boy, she needed- _ugh_, there Quinn goes again with the grinding.

Rachel needed her inside and now. _Now_.

It'd been five months; they'd waited long enough.

"If I take them off, we aren't stopping," Rachel purred into the ear resting against her cheek and then nipped at it because she could.

"Who said anything about stopping?"

"Certainly not me," Rachel moaned and unfastened Quinn's jeans. She slid the zipper down, pulled them apart and didn't bother taking them off. She turned her hand palm up and dipped it inside, pushing hard past Quinn's underwear and straight to the wetness she found waiting.

Her fingers slid easily through the damp blonde.

"Oh, my, Lord," Quinn moaned.

"I have no idea what I'm doing," Rachel whispered and ran her fingers up the length of Quinn. Those other lips split around them and instantly her hand was dripping with _Quinn_.

"What you're doing is perfect," she sighed. So Rachel repeated her action. She brought her fingers back up and then dragged them back down through her. She paused at what felt like her entrance and circled around it, testing the waters a bit. She watched Quinn's body for any sort of response as she circled deeper around the edge.

Quinn shuddered and laced her arms underneath Rachel's neck to grip her tighter, her hips rising up off the bed a bit to allow more room. Her unfastened jeans pulled taut across her hips and Rachel watched her own forearm flex and stretch as she rubbed over Quinn and back again. The blonde panted harder each time and eventually turned to kiss and suck on Rachel's neck. She needed to be kissing that skin. She needed the taste.

She needed more.

And then Rachel moved her free hand back to those perfect breasts and-

"What in the- Get off my child!"

"Daddy!" Rachel shrieked and shot up, flinging Quinn off the far side of the bed. Leroy stood at the door, hands on his hips and smoke billowing from his ears.

"We have an Open Door policy! And a Living Room Only if No One is Home policy, Rachel Berry! And _no one was home_!"

Quinn scuttled around the floor, hidden from view by Rachel's bed, and desperately tried to find her top, a spare shirt, or a bra for crying out loud.

"I'm sorry!" Rachel huffed and pulled a pillow over her lap. Leroy's eyes shot down to her thong on reflex at the action. It took half a second to realize and then he forced them up to the ceiling.

"We've talked about that kind of underwear."

Quinn tried to contain her laughter, not to mention the heat in her stomach, as she swiped up a random shirt from Rachel's floor and threw it on. She should stand up. She should. She should face Leroy. She should be admirable. She should take her part in the responsibility.

So why was she still crouched on the floor wanting to crawl under the bed and _die_?

"Daddy, it's a thong. There is nothing wrong with a thong."

"There is when it attracts behavior like this!"

"It didn't attract anything!" Rachel fought.

"Oh really? You don't think you wearing underwear like that attracted this kind of attention from Quinn?" he chided. "Miss Fabray! Stand up."

Oh, shit.

Quinn gulped down her immense fear of one Leroy Berry and stood. His huge, towering frame was the Goliath to her David and yet she lost every battle she ever had with him.

She stood, slowly turned and locked fearful eyes at the feet of Part Two of the Berrymen. His boots were huge, made for stomping, like elephants.

"Look at me," he demanded and then flashed eyes at her undone jeans. She choked on her embarrassment and fastened them. After, she landed her eyes back on his.

"What do _you_ think about my daughter's thong, hm?" he asked and arched an eyebrow. Her jaw hit Rachel's floor and the brunette snapped eyes onto her girlfriend. Quinn gulped.

Oh, my, ever loving Father in heaven. How does she answer that? She looked to Rachel and got nothing but shock and cluelessness.

"I, ugh…"

"You, ugh…"

"I think they, ugh, they can be fashionably appropriate when a woman of appropriate age would like to avoid inappropriate lines in her pants, shorts, or if the… weather may… call for it… um, skirts."

"Fashionably appropriate for _appropriately aged_ women to wear to avoid inappropriate lines."

Gulp.

"Correct."

"You're wearing a Hello Kitty t-shirt from my daughter's floor," he deadpanned. "Are Hello Kitty-wearing girls _appropriately aged_?"

She looked down. Sure, enough.

Hi, Kitty.

"What are the odds," Rachel muttered under her breath. Leroy rolled his eyes and Quinn tugged uncomfortably on the burdening shirt.

He turned back to Rachel.

"You are too young to have sex. You are too young to wear underwear like that. And you are too young to be home alone in your room with your girlfriend. Respect our rules, girls, or you will feel wrath like none before. Get dressed- in your _real_ clothes with _real_ underwear, not the Dorito chip kind- and come downstairs. Dinner is ready," he barked and that fierce scowl turned up slowly into a smile. What felt like a full sixty seconds of creepy smiling later, he turned and left.

It was _horrifying_.

"Your Daddy freaks me the fu-"

"Quinn!"

"What? It's true! He's terrifying! What was with that smile? It's a serial killer smile!" she huffed, tore off the stupid shirt and looked around the room.

"It's on the desk," Rachel called and then purred, "right where I _ripped it off _you."

"Don't. Don't do that. Your father just cock-blocked the shi-"

"I will full name you if you don't watch yourself and language."

"Go ahead and full name me then! I don't care! I am so frustrated right now!" she groaned, swiped her shirt off Rachel's desk, threw it on, and flung herself dramatically over the bed. Her hand landed on Rachel's bare thigh and for a second, she thought they could maybe get away with trying again.

Just for a second.

Because then Leroy Berry's serial killer smile snuck into her mind and her hand left Rachel's thigh in an instant. The brunette giggled before leaning down to press a kiss to her forehead.

"Don't be afraid, baby," she eased. "He won't hurt you."

"He could crush me with his thumb, Rachel. He's like the dude from Green Mile. Every day I expect him to lean back, crank his jaw open and release millions of bugs from his throat!"

"Quinn."

"_Rachel_."

"You're overreacting and being dramatic. And this is coming from a drama queen."

"You're under-reacting."

"That's not a thing," Rachel laughed.

"Sure it is!"

Quinn groaned, rolled over, buried her face in Rachel's lap and laced her arms around her waist. Ah, comfort in the sweet lap of her beautiful girlfriend. Leroy Berry could never get her there. She could cuddle right there forever.

And then… she realized where _right there_ was.

She popped her eyes open to see if it in fact was true. And there sat Rachel's thong, right smack in the middle of her crossed legs and six inches from Quinn's nose. She pulled her arms tighter and snuggled closer.

She couldn't help herself.

Rachel smirked and ran her hands through the blonde hair splayed over her lap. Quinn licked her lips and pulled herself closer. Three more inches. She could smell Rachel. God, she could smell her.

"Miss Fabray," Rachel hummed.

"Busy."

"Quinn Fabray," she giggled.

"Leave a message," the blonde muttered and dug in further.

Rachel couldn't help herself and forced her thighs slightly apart, begrudgingly rolling her eyes to the ceiling as she waited for the cocky blonde's response.

"That's what I thought," Quinn mumbled and grinned like mad. Her girl wanted it. Oh yes, she wanted it.

"Daddy could come back," Rachel warned.

"I'll call Tom Hanks," she retorted and pulled in closer, two inches away. She could almost rub her nose across Rachel if she wanted to. She was so, so close and that's when she saw it: a darkened triangle right across the front. "Oh my."

Rachel imagined Quinn's face in that moment and beamed so wide she about knocked her own ears off her face. Something inside her delighted at Quinn knowing how bad she wanted her.

And she wanted her, badly.

Could they do this with her parents downstairs, _right _downstairs?

She looked at the wide open bedroom door and listened carefully. She could hear pots and pans rattling around in the kitchen. If that was just Dad creating a diversion and Daddy was about to pop around the corner, he would see Quinn's face buried between her legs and Rachel's hands in her hair, egging her on further.

That would not look good.

That would not look good at all, but it would _feel_ _so good_.

She couldn't stop it. She could feel Quinn's breath heating her and she wanted that thong off and the girl touching her _now_.

"Kiss me," she whimpered.

"I said I'm busy," Quinn shot back. Rachel pulled her bottom lip between her teeth. She could do it. She could say what she meant. She gulped away the nerves.

"I mean down_ there_," she barely whispered and felt Quinn tense. There was nothing, no movement, and she was going to go crazy and bite through her bottom lip waiting for the girl's reaction.

But Quinn, Quinn was already out of her mind. She felt like her eyes bulged wide and shined all addictive-crazy looking at Rachel's request. Like oh, shiny! Touch it, touch it.

But _kiss it_ instead.

Oh my.

She could do this.

She softly ran her fingers over Rachel's lower back, almost saying thank you and get ready, and then pushed her head the two inches left between them.

Her lips found wet thong and she pressed a soft kiss once, twice and again. She pulled her mouth over the fabric and kissed lower. After, she ran them up and then darted her tongue out to follow the trail. There was too much to explore and she wanted it all at once. She settled for flattening her tongue and running it over the length of her love.

"Oh yes," Rachel moaned.

"Shh," she cooed and kissed her harder and again. She slid her wet tongue up the edges of Rachel's thong and then bit down roughly over the dark triangle.

"_Yes_, there," Rachel moaned.

"Be quiet."

"Stop talking and put your lips back on me," she huffed.

"Then call Tom Hanks because we're going to need him," Quinn huffed and kissed Rachel's thong with fervor. She kissed all over it, sliding her mouth up and down, twirling her tongue over the wetness and then biting down.

Oh Barbra. Oh, oh Barbra.

"Pull it away," Rachel exhaled.

_Wait, what?_

Quinn gasped.

Her head shot up and landed on Rachel's blackened eyes.

"Wait, what? What? Wait," Quinn tried. Rachel gripped the girl's cheeks, kissed her once, looked to the empty doorway and then leaned in.

"I said pull… it… away," she whispered.

"Pull what away?"

Rachel rolled her eyes.

"My _underwear_."

"That would leave…" Quinn mumbled in confusion, not quite sure the girl understood what she was requesting, and Rachel only cocked an eyebrow.

So Rachel _did_ understand what she was saying. She repeated herself without a hint of question in tone. "Right, right, that would_ leave_."

Rachel tapped her nose twice and Quinn grinned.

The brunette laced her fingers in Quinn's hair, checked the door again, and then guided Quinn back into her lap.

The blonde pulled one hand out from behind Rachel and snuck it into her cozy little abode between the girl's legs.

When fingertips ran down the right edge of her thong, Rachel's eyes shot to the door. This would be bad, very bad, if her daddy reappeared. She would be single for life if she even got to live. Quinn would certainly not get to live. But she was so, so close to exactly where Rachel wanted her.

They couldn't stop now. It would be worth it. If you're going to get caught and killed, make it be worth it, right?

As if she heard the go-ahead, Quinn laced a finger underneath Rachel's bright blue thong and pulled it away, revealing every bit of the girl she'd wanted to see since she realized she was in love with her that Halloween night almost a year ago.

She couldn't wait any longer.

She pushed forward, dropped her tongue out and brought it up the length of her girlfriend. Oh, my- oh, my- oh, my she didn't even know what. She didn't even know. She pulled back and then slid her tongue between Rachel's lips again, deeper this time, tasting heaven all over again.

A moaned ripped from Rachel's mouth, her hand gripped blonde hair, and her entire body fell back into the pillows.

"_That's_ what we've been missing?" she moaned and pushed Quinn down harder. "Again, baby. Again and again and never stop."

"Shh," Quinn hissed and ran her tongue over Rachel again. She decided right then and there that this girl would be her favorite meal for the rest of her life. She probed deeper, tasting her and savoring her. She was drenched. There was too much to lick up and lick around and lick inside, she needed a light and a map and a book to take notes of the greatest freaking thing she'd ever seen or tasted or done in her-

"You girls better be getting dressed up there! Be down here in two minutes flat or I will come up there and physically carry Quinn home over my shoulder like a caveman!" Leroy shouted from the bottom of the stairs and banged a spatula into the wall a few times for effect.

Quinn flew out of her lap and flung to her feet beside the bed. Her hands shot to the don't-arrest-me position and Rachel rolled her eyes. Enter sexual frustration, she groaned before reaching down and pulling her thong back over herself.

The blonde watched her do it and found herself licking her lips. Rachel looked up and landed on those bright hazel eyes. Quinn beamed, the excitement of what they'd just done shooting over her.

"I love you so much," she whispered.

"I'll love you more when you finally have sex with me," Rachel huffed, rolled off the bed and yanked on her jeans.

"_Clearly_ I am _trying_," Quinn groaned.

Rachel buckled herself up, threw her hair into a messy ponytail and walked over to Quinn. She released the happiest, giddiest grin Quinn had ever seen, popped onto her tippy toes and kissed the blonde quickly and deeply.

And for the first time ever, Rachel tasted herself.

Quinn watched the reaction flash over the girl's face and awaited her response with eagerness. She could see the wheels cranking as her tongue moved around inside her mouth.

"So?"

Rachel licked her lips over again and tapped a finger to chin.

"Rather… tangy."

"Delicious, right?" Quinn beamed and bit her bottom lip shyly. They were crossing so many firsts off their lists and every single one was better than the last. She wanted to rip open her chest and explode with excitement. Her heart raced, her cheeks hurt and the yearning in the bottom of her abdomen made her want to go sing in the rain.

Rachel nodded with a smile.

"I can't wait to do that to you," she said.

And that's when Quinn's excitement vanished and realization ran over her instead. Rachel would do _that_ to_ her_. Rachel would… lick her… down there.

Oh my ever loving Jesus.

She could die happily now.

But _after_ Rachel, you know, did that.

Definitely after.

"Girls! Dinner! Now!"

"Okay!" they shrieked, pulled together for a kiss, both taking quick gropes between yelps, and then pranced towards the door.

Downstairs, Hiram poured over vegetables in the sink and Leroy sat the table for four, spatula weapon still in hand.

"Lee, why the Me Caveman, You Baby Cub routine? You're going to send Quinn running for the hills. And she's a good one," he chided.

Pairs of feet pounded down the stairs over giggles and he knew he'd never tire of that noise. It spelled, smelled, and _felt_ like home.

"Because it's more fun," Leroy grinned playfully, tossed a napkin ring at his face, and the girls bounded into the kitchen. He instantly dropped his grin and bore into Quinn, darting his accusatory eyes to her pants fly and back up with a huff.

She shot a horrified glance down to her button and zipper- thank god, they're fastened- and looked back up to him in stricken fear, waiting for his neck to crane back and the bugs to fly free.

Bugs.

Flying free.

Oh, Jesus.

Her eyes twitched.

At the reaction, Hiram turned away over his shoulder and choked back a giggle as Leroy leaned in close.

"Told you."

They shared a silent snicker and Quinn turned to Rachel, eyes wide and fear splayed.

She mouthed, "_See? Serial killer_!"

Rachel rolled her eyes.

It would be a long, long dinner.


	14. Chapter 13 Summer Before College June

**Good morning, everyone! The response to this story has been amazing and I'm so grateful you are all falling in love with like I did. Enjoy it! Here is the next installment and part of it is quite possibly one of my most favorite things I've ever written. XO Dylan**

* * *

><p>June - Summer Before College<p>

_But What if the Car Won't Start?_

Parenting and marriage were two areas in which Russell Fabray knew he struggled, even if he'd never admit it out loud to the females of his family.

He knew numbers. He knew marketing. He knew black from white.

He was a crisp and clear kind of man.

But his wife and daughters were not crisp and clear kind of women.

Especially Quinn, everything with her was a bit grey. Everything with her had curvy lines and Vin diagrams and shades of colors and what ifs. Looking into her bright green eyes, which looked remarkably like his own, he saw less and less of himself as each day passed.

This never sat well.

And now, he lounged behind the steering wheel of their boat looking out at his grown, graduated daughter on the front deck and he felt like he hardly knew her at all. Who was this Quinn? She wasn't the Quinn from six months ago. She certainly wasn't the Quinn from three years ago. And she definitely wasn't the six year old Quinn who brought her blankie into his room, sucked her thumb, and slept at the foot of his bed. No, she was certainly not that girl.

So who was she? She would leave in two months for college and he could feel her slipping the rest of the way out of his reach, her tiny little hand never needing his again.

She would be gone, just like Frannie. His older daughter graduated and never looked back, not until she needed money. He tried not to be bitter over Frannie's one way street of effort. After all, he was her father, her support. He was supposed to be giving her money at this time of her life.

But Quinn, he couldn't have that relationship with his baby girl. He couldn't settle for that, not with Quinnie.

And there she lay, book in her hand and sun beating down on her hot skin. Rachel shimmied to herself, music in her ears, and randomly reached out to grab Quinn's attention over something.

He could see the confusion and unknown permeate around them. He'd attempted to speak with Rachel back when Leroy was diagnosed, but the girl hardly spoke to anyone. And so Quinn hardly spoke to anyone. And now Quinn was a shell of the complete unknown. He'd watched her sink back from life, with the exception of sleepovers with Brittany, and now he had no idea what was in her head. Was she okay with things with Rachel? Was she still upset about Juilliard? Did she want them together? Were they just going to be friends?

Russell wasn't sure where to even start with his plan to stay involved. He figured he'd done pretty well over the past couple years with them. He never screamed. He never walked away. He never threw her out. He never uttered a disdainful word.

He did all of this even though he wanted to vomit when they sat him down that afternoon when they were sixteen and changed his world.

All of his dreams for his daughter flew out the window in an instant. Visions of marching her down the aisle to a handsome gentlemen he would be proud to call his son vanished in mid air. Dreams of how a grandchild would come about dissipated. Everything he knew was gone and everything waiting for them was unknown. The unknown terrified a man of black and white realities.

His crisp and clear world swirled around him in a bowl full of shades. He could only grasp at the rim to avoid being sucked down the drain and washed out of the picture forever.

It couldn't happen. It _wouldn't_ happen. Today he'd put them back on a track where he mattered, where he was needed, where he could understand his own daughter and appreciate her for who she actually was and not who he hoped she would be. That was the track they both needed.

"Quinn," he called out, not even sure where it would take him. He shouldn't be fearful of speaking to his own daughter, for crying out loud, but he was. She leaned up on an elbow and craned her head around.

"Yeah?"

"Wanna come drive?"

She used to love driving the boat. She would sit in his lap, play with the controls and take the boat wherever she pleased. She would talk about the current characters she was getting to know in whatever book she was reading, whether it be Curious George, Sam I Am, the Hungry Caterpillar, Brown Bear, and even up to Margaret. She'd tell him about these characters and then ask to take the boat to the places in these stories.

Russell grinned at the memory of bright blonde, little Quinnie in his lap.

From the deck of the boat, she smiled back at him, crawled to her feet and walked his way with her book still in hand.

Maybe she wasn't so different after all, he thought.

"I haven't driven this boat in years, Dad."

He stood, gestured for her to take his spot and sat down in the seat to her right.

Rachel rolled to her stomach and let her gaze turn from the sky overhead to Quinn as she grinned curiously at Papa Russ, er, _Mr. Fabray. _Was "Papa Russ" acceptable anymore? She didn't know. Everything was so confusing all the time.

Judy looked up over her glasses from the rear of the boat, cocked an amused eyebrow at her husband, and fluttered the pages of this week's love affair between her fingers: Stone Walsh and Emma Harvey. They were frolicking around the ranches of Wyoming without an ounce of drama. She found it refreshing as she looked up to Rachel staring at Quinn.

She missed them. She missed their vibrant joy. She missed the playful banter. Slowly it crept back into their lives since whatever changed on graduation, but still. She could see Rachel biting her tongue. She could see Quinn fidgeting with her fingers just to keep them off the girl. She could see the tension and feelings pulsing between them like they were magnets being yanked apart with only the need to propel back together on their minds.

Judy wanted to step forward, smack their heads, and slam them into one another. Heavens, she even missed catching them groping. It was better than walking in on a stifled conversation of the girls saying everything but what they actually wanted to say. Ugh, she was near fifty. She didn't need that extra exhaustion! It caused wrinkles!

She watched Rachel smile gingerly at the blonde and Quinn met her gaze for a hard second before turning away with a rub to her neck.

Ugh, Judy groaned, enough of that. Back to Stone and Emma because at least they _act_ on their feelings, even if it did include dialogue like, "My dear, your loins are all I'll ever crave."

Whatever, it was summer and she was sitting on a boat with her husband who was for some reason fixated on their daughter and their daughter who was fixated on her ex-girlfriend and their daughter's ex-girlfriend who was fixated on seeming like she wasn't eaves dropping on her husband.

Pft, no wonder books were invented.

"How are you doing?" Russell asked Quinn, after which Judy dove back in to Stone and Emma and dear Rachel dropped the volume on her iPod.

"Good."

Quinn looked over the dash controls and reveled in the feelings that driving the boat brought back to her. She pulled left on the wheel and smiled as the boat swished through the water. Rachel swayed with it, shooting out a hand to stop from toppling over.

Her smoldering eyes shot up to Quinn's in warning.

The blonde smothered her grin.

And Russell took it all in. He watched Rachel shake her head in disapproval and Quinn bite back her giddiness. Something about it warmed his heart. Probably because ever since that conversation their sophomore year, he saw extreme love for Rachel in Quinn's eyes, those eyes he'd known for so long until recently and to which he prayed he'd find his way back. If they still shined that kind of love for Rachel, they could shine bright for him as well.

"Quinnie," he mumbled, eyes checking Rachel and then landing back on his daughter. She pulled her attention up to his and the childlike exuberance floating off of her made him feel like things might just be okay for them.

"Yeah, Dad?"

"I asked how you were."

"Yeah, and I said I'm good."

"I'm looking for more than that."

He leaned back in the white chair, swiveled his legs out towards Quinn and rested his hands casually over the armrests.

Quinn eyed him curiously. Was her father prying?

"What is it that you're looking for?"

Rachel's head twitched just barely in Quinn's peripheral vision and she tried not to laugh. Russell darted his eyes in question at the brunette and then back to Quinn for answers. She arched hers in confusion. He rolled his and leaned forward.

"Can she… hear us?" he whispered.

"She's pretending she can't, but yes she can. She always can," she whispered and suddenly whipped frontward in her seat. Rachel jolted her attention elsewhere.

"Punish her," Russell chuckled.

Rachel awkwardly looked away, obvious fake attention landing on lake water and tree lines and shore. With a smirk, Quinn kicked the speed boat into high gear and took a swift right turn.

"Hold it," Russell encouraged, eyeing the steering wheel. Quinn held the wheel far right. The swift right turn spun into a donut and Rachel went somersaulting into the small railing with a bang and a scream.

"Mother fu-"

"Miss Berry!" Judy shrieked in condemnation. Rachel snapped her mouth shut and released the rest of her wail through a groan. Quinn let the wheel straighten back out and Rachel peeled herself off the metal bars with a huff, moan, and obscene mumbling about stars never getting this treatment on their own yachts.

Yachts. Ha! Quinn's inner cheeks near bled from biting back her laughter. And she knew her dad's weren't any better. They locked shiny eyes and then looked back to Rachel. The tiny girl gathered herself, rubbed at her side and crawled to her knees, heavy angry eyes landing hard on the blonde.

"Quinn."

"Yes, Rachel?"

"Unacceptable."

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"I am a fragile-"

"Little creature?"

"Quinn Fabray!"

"_Rachel Berry_!"

Russell threw out his hand, palm up. Quinn did a double take and then slowly reached out to smack it.

"Really? You're high-fiving?" Rachel spat.

"We high five all the time," he stated indignantly. Quinn bit back a giggle and nodded haughtily.

"This is true."

"You could have broken me. Or sent me flying off the boat!"

"But she didn't," Russell cut in.

"Mr. Fabray, I don't think-"

"You mean Papa Russ."

He could've thrown a stack of textbooks in her face and it would've landed softer. She sank to the deck of the boat, crossed her legs and her eyes found everything but him.

He should've known not to go there.

Russell read the dejected, sorrowful look of the unknown written across the small girl and decided not to push. It had only been six months since her father passed away and Quinn _walked _away and _Papa Russ_ took her back to that era. Yes, he wanted to bond with them, but not for the sake of her stability. In reality, how put together could she actually be?

"So what is it that you're listening to these days, Rachel?" he asked instead. Rachel looked at Quinn and then Judy and then her iPod and then back to Quinn and then finally to Russell. He was asking her questions?

"Um, I um…"

"Your music, Rach. What's playing?" Quinn directed.

"Um, right, right. Alicia Keys."

"I've heard of her!" Russell boasted. "I have! And I'm not even having to lie! Look at that!"

Quinn beamed at the silliness and Judy rolled her eyes before letting them fall back to Emma and Stone.

"She plays the piano," Rachel explained. "I'm, I'm learning to play so she's become a bit of an, an inspiration."

"You are?" Quinn gushed.

"Yes. I mean, it's nothing too developed or involved. I thought it would be a good attribute to have once I hit Juilliard. There are going to be so many talented musicians there who are just singers. I'll need-"

"You're _more_ than just a singer," she snapped.

"So that means you're going to Juilliard? You're going to start singing again?" Russell added.

"I suppose I am," she shrugged, not really sure how that was supposed to happen or when or what it would feel like that. Rachel just prayed she didn't implode, embarrass herself, or worse, fail to hack it. Quinn watched the worry spread over the girl. She wanted to wrap her up and fix everything like she should have six months ago.

Uncomfortable silence fell over the boat. No one knew what to say to any of the elephants staring at them. Someone should herd them together, lock them up, and throw them overboard.

"I think you're going to do marvelously!" Judy beamed from the back. They turned their attention to her, watched her thrust her margarita in the air and give a haughty cheer.

"Is she drunk?" Quinn whispered and silently thanked her mother.

"Your guess is as good as mine, sweetheart."

Judy gave him a wink and blew a small kiss.

Quinn looked back to Rachel; she found the girl's eyes locked on her lap. She saw all the doubts floating around that pretty head. She could almost reach out and rip them out of the air they were so prevalent. Her shoulders hung. She nibbled her lips. She picked at her fingers.

Quinn should fix that. She should definitely fix that. She would fix things for the rest of her life just to make up for not fixing the one thing she should've.

"Hey Daddy?"

Russell melted at the name and knew he'd be saying yes to anything that followed.

"Mhm?"

"Do you think we could maybe hover somewhere for a swim? I kinda wanna…" She jerked her head towards Rachel. Russell followed it and landed on his third, silently distraught daughter.

He nodded to Quinn and she dropped the boat to low and then to a full stop. Wind swooshed past them as they slowed to a crawl and Rachel's attention drew up.

"Are we stopping?"

"We're swimming!" Quinn grinned, cut the boat's engine and kissed her father's forehead before prancing through the dash and up to Rachel.

"Swimming in the lake? Don't you know what's in lakes?"

"You've swam in this lake before, Rach. Remember? Last summer," she smirked. "Clearly you're still alive."

Quinn stepped to the front peak of the boat and pulled off her tank top over her bikini.

Rachel forgot everything.

Literally, she forgot _everything_.

Quinn was taking her shirt off. And _last summer at the lake_.

Oh, god, last summer at the lake.

And then Quinn dropped her shorts and Rachel forgot what "forgot" meant and what an "everything" was. Her jaw dragged down as her eyes followed. Her lips felt her own needy tongue swipe out over them.

If she could sex something with her eyes, she would. Right now, she would so sex it with her eyes. She would sex it so, so thoroughly.

And she knew Quinn could feel it. People could always feel someone's stare and Quinn never failed to feel Rachel's.

She hovered on the ledge a bit longer to let it sink into the brunette, mustered as much charm as she could, and then looked over her left shoulder.

Rachel's jaw snapped close.

"You're coming, right?" Quinn pleaded.

She gulped again.

"Sure."

Quinn smiled that _lit up because of Rachel Berry_ smile and Rachel's insides flamed. She hadn't seen that in months. It was back. The smile was _back_.

The realization caused both butterflies in her stomach and a torrential downpour in her heart.

The blonde turned and dove off the front of the boat. Water splattered its way up and over Rachel, the cooling effect not near enough to solve her issue. She needed more. She needed to be drowning in it. She crawled to her feet, ripped off her cover-up dress and launched herself off the front and over Quinn's head.

Playful shrieks erupted and Rachel split the water with a splash. Chills swallowed her whole and successfully cooled her insides.

Ah, _relief_.

And then it was gone; familiar hands snaked their way around her waist and pulled her off to the right. She should open her eyes. She should. But she was in a lake! Lakes were muddy and grungy and even had cities buried underneath them depending on their level of man-made-ness.

Her head broke free of the surface and she gasped for air. Those hands circled tight around her, pulling the back of her fully into the front of their owner.

She so loved the front of that owner.

Quinn's front was her favorite piece of canvas to look at, play with, and do things upon, like delicious art. The kind you don't sell in galleries. The kind you put in your sock drawer and pray never hits the internet.

"Why are you shivering?"

Was she shivering? Crap, she was shivering. The blonde head and chin behind her perched down on her shoulder and those hands crossed over her stomach to loop around her completely. Their legs kicked in tandem to keep them afloat and water droplets danced over her face. She reached up and wiped them clean under the heat of the sun.

"Because I'm cold?" she finally muttered.

The non-answer told Quinn all she needed to know. She pulled her bottom lip between her teeth and slowly twirled Rachel around.

Their eyes met, as if the world just didn't provide anywhere else to look.

Rachel watched Quinn's shoulders barely bob out of the water as she kept them afloat with her arms now securely tightened around Rachel's back.

She let her own arms stretch east and west, spinning in little helpful circles. Keeping their balance was important.

Keeping her hands off Quinn was also important.

She couldn't go there.

They couldn't go there.

"I'm glad you came," Quinn cut in and slowly maneuvered their hovering bodies back up towards the front ledge of the boat. After a few kicks, the pointy ledge peaked over them and cut the sun's glare in half, bringing a dark, encompassing shade over their bodies.

"I'm glad you invited me."

"Mom actually invited you." Quinn cocked an eyebrow and smiled.

"Oh, I see how it is. Judy likes me more than you do," she chirped and leaned in close. "Hey, and what's with your dad? He likes me now, too?"

"He's always liked you."

"Let me rephrase that: he's taking an interest in me now?"

"I don't know. Is he taking an interest in _me_ now? Your guess is as good as mine."

"I think I preferred the other Russell: accepting yet aloof," Rachel muttered. Quinn released one hand and brought it to the surface to push wet strands of hair out of Rachel's face. Her fingertips brushed forehead, cheek and ear, trailing a fire of heat in their wake. She thought it innocent enough.

But she was wrong.

Rachel shuddered under the touch and their entire history rushed over her in one powerful instant, just like the moment Quinn approached her the afternoon before their first kiss. One touch and Quinn was inside her soul.

This time, it was _not_ okay.

"We need to, um, find some boundaries I think," she forced out and began squirming out of the blonde's grip.

No, no, no, Quinn couldn't let go yet. She had Rachel six inches away and it felt like life was finally right again.

"Wait, wait," she whimpered and snuck her arm back under water to wrap the girl back up. She coiled her hands completely around Rachel and brought her snug against her front. Their bodies pressed flush against each other and Rachel's headed glided next to Quinn's, landing cheek to cheek.

_Yes_, that's where she needed to be, right there.

"Just wait," Quinn breathed again. She couldn't feel where she ended and Rachel began and that's how it was always supposed to be.

Rachel swallowed the air she needed. Where should she put her arms? How should she feel? What should she allow? She wanted the sun to come back, to shine a light on them, to put them back under a spotlight. It was safer.

It was _easier_.

Quinn's body enveloped hers further, pulling tightly, squeezing, and caressing. Those perfect hands were everywhere every second, taking in all of her like they'd forgotten and so badly needed a reminder.

Oh my, Rachel fought it. She fought it hard, but easy was _no_ fun and easy didn't fix the burning in her stomach. Quinn could fix the burning in her stomach. Quinn could fix everything.

Quinn could also_ break_ everything.

Oh, god.

Interruption, they needed interruption before she caved.

Quinn slid her fingers down Rachel's spine.

Mr. Fabray! Papa Russ. Come need something!

Quinn slid her hands over the thighs dangling in front of her.

Judy. Judy! Get out of your romance novel! Come offer a drink!

And then Quinn nuzzled her face into Rachel's neck. She could feel her breathing. She could feel her heart beating. She could feel her begging.

Parents! _Check_ on your children! Check on your _childreeen_!

But nothing.

Nothing saved her.

She lost to herself. She lost badly.

Her arms closed in and her body wrapped itself around Quinn. It snaked around the gorgeous neck and her legs laced around her waist. She let her head fall into wet blonde hair at the crook of the collar bone she'd worshipped more times than she could count.

And Quinn could've cried.

Because oh, yes.

_There she was._

Quinn sank from a stiff, begging, pre-cooked noodle to melt in your mouth, stringy, and gooey spaghetti. She melded into Rachel. She ran her hands up her back. She gripped thick, soaking brown hair and squeezed the air out of her. This was her girl and she had her, she had her right here.

"I miss you."

Did she say that or did Rachel?

"I miss you, too."

Life vanished away.

They didn't know anything anymore; they really never had.

It was never about knowing anything when it came to them. It was always about feeling and just doing. They just did. Most times it worked, last fall it ruined them. But they never questioned what they had. They just… _were_, like soul mates never needing to know more. Why was irrelevant because everything was an answer. Why? Because of her hazel eyes. Why? Because of that voice. Why? Because she wears knee highs. Why? Because thoughts don't exist outside of her. Why? Because love seems wasteful when not directed at her. Why? _Because there is no why not._

And now, now…

"I want to kiss you."

Again, did she just say that or did Rachel?

"I want to kiss you, too."

"We can't," they uttered.

And then they both pulled back and their lips slid together. Wet skin, damp mouths, and a monsoon of emotion: it wrecked them. Quinn clinched her eyes and pulled her mouth over Rachel's. She never knew if she'd kiss those lips again, if she'd remember what they felt like, how they worked, things they craved.

But she remembered everything.

And Rachel did, too. She slid delicate fingers around Quinn's neck and held her steady in the water as she kissed Quinn's top lip, then bottom, then pulled them apart, cocked her head and met that tongue with her own. She needed more, she needed all of it. It sent a flash of images flooding over the back of her eyelids: their first kiss, their first time, their last kiss, and their last time.

Were those tears or water?

Quinn didn't know.

Who knew?

Who cared?

She squeezed tighter and pressed her lips harder over Rachel's.

This time, there was no dueling.

There was sensuality, neediness, yearning, and the heat of knowing how every millimeter of each other worked. They breathed each other in, attempting to swallow the other whole. Nothing was enough. Flush against each other wasn't enough. Quinn needed inside her.

And Rachel needed free. She needed this to stop because shit, what were they doing? What were they doing? She could feel Quinn's hips between her legs, Quinn's hands on her lower back, Quinn's tongue sliding over her own and all she wanted was to god, be let go! Because Quinn walks away, she walks away, she had walked away. It couldn't happen again.

But she couldn't stop.

Why couldn't she stop it? She absolutely needed to-

"Girls, would you like some- Oh, thank god!"

_Oh, thank god_; Rachel ripped herself off Quinn, out of their bubble of undeniable gravity, and swam towards the back of the boat without a glance back.

Quinn watched her go, Rachel taking her heart right along with her like always. She hovered in the water, suddenly very cold and alone, and then craned her head upward. She was met with Halo Judy, lit from behind with that abrasive sunlight.

"Sorry, sweetheart," she frowned.

"Cock block," Quinn muttered.

And Judy's heart swam.


	15. Chapter 14 HS Junior Year October

October - Junior Year

_It's a Giant Chair! Pull Over! Get the Camera!_

"Stop, stop, stop," Quinn begged.

"Can't do that," Rachel whispered between kisses. "I won't ever be able to walk away from these lips."

She pushed Quinn's hands above her head against the stall door and pinned her girlfriend with her hips.

"We're at school."

"I'm aware."

Rachel laid her palms flat against Quinn and slid them under her blouse. She dragged them up until she found what she wanted, what she always wanted, what she'd want forever. Her fingers splayed over Quinn's chest and the blonde's head lulled back against the stall. It was the most sensual thing Rachel had ever seen and every time it amazed her. That neck, the rush of pleasure, the submission; "You are so beautiful, Bee."

"Am I beautiful when I'm angry?" she groaned.

"Let's find out."

Rachel bit her lip and squeezed her fingers over both nipples through her bra. Quinn arched up into her touch and found piles of brown hair laced through her fingers. She pulled Rachel back to her mouth and took everything she needed: lips, tongue, roof, teeth.

Rachel gasped after what felt like minutes and pulled back.

"I can't breathe."

"Use your nose."

Quinn yanked her back in and assaulted her once more. Rachel twisted her fingers to give it back and their hips rocked in unison with need.

This time, Quinn pulled back.

"No, really, we're at school."

"Then have sex with me at home already."

"You act like I'm telling you no. I can't help that our parental units have a chastity belt locked around you."

"_And_ you," Rachel purred and ran her hand down between Quinn's legs. She gripped once over her jeans and then ran her fingers over her again.

"After the Homocoming- ugh, the Homecoming Dance. _Home_coming," she chuckled.

"Freud would be proud of you," Rachel giggled. She placed a lingering kiss on her girlfriend's lips and pressed tightly against her. Not an inch separated them at any point of their bodies as it should be, always.

Quinn sighed into her, wrapped her hands around her waist and kissed her leisurely. She could kiss her forever.

And then the bathroom door opened and voices made their way in. Quinn immediately grabbed Rachel's hips, picked her up and sat them down on the toilet. She shot her eyes to Rachel's feet and then the wall. The brunette brought them up on either side and placed them flat out of view.

"I've never straddled you on a toilet," Rachel whispered through a grin as the voices of Tina and Mercedes echoed throughout the bathroom.

"There's a reason," Quinn whispered.

Rachel rolled her eyes and gave the best sultry wiggle of her eyebrows, which in translation came out silly and adorable. Quinn shook her head and relaxed, her fingers drawing little circles over the bare skin above the back Rachel's skirt.

Rachel's skirt.

Rachel was wearing a skirt.

Quinn dropped her eyes between them. Said skirt was riding high with the brunette's legs spread around her. She needed about four more inches and she'd see thong.

Please say there was a thong.

Rachel watched Quinn trying to shrink her spine down to bring her line of sight a bit lower.

Ridiculous.

_You're incorrigible_, she mouthed.

"Mike's wearing green tonight. Is Kurt matching your dress or are you matching Kurt's vest?" Tina quipped and leaned in close to reapply the second half of the day's chapstick. Mercedes raised a defiant eyebrow and shot a hand to her hip.

"I resent that. You know women like me do not match men. Men match me," Mercedes beamed and Tina gave her righteous nod.

Quinn released Rachel's back and traveled her hands around the girl's sides. Oh, no no no. Rachel shook her head in warning.

"What time does the limo get to Puck's for pickup?" Tina asked.

Quinn's hands slid around knee high covered shins, up over her knees, and along bare thighs to the edge of her skirt.

Rachel shook her head again, eyes going a bit wide. She wanted it. She wanted it so bad. But she did _not_ want it on a toilet in a public bathroom… for her first time.

"I want to say 7:45. We have to be to the restaurant by 8:00 and Rachel said if anyone isn't there at 7:45, they would be left behind and would miss out on one of life's most precious adolescent milestones," Mercedes mocked.

Quinn cocked an eyebrow. What would Rachel do now, huh? Her peers were making fun of her organizational skills and her girlfriend was trying to hit third base with a bang. There was just… so much to get riled up about. She could see the fire dancing from Rachel's ears and the sneer cross her mouth.

Rachel seethed.

Of course the Homecoming Dance was an adolescent milestone and the restaurant was fifteen minutes away! Sheer math told them everything Rachel had said as well.

Quinn grinned at the pout and slid her fingers higher, dipping underneath Rachel's skirt and waiting to see those big brown eyes react. And react they did; they shot down and watched.

They simply _watched_.

Every inch Quinn progressed brought Rachel's jaw further south. Those eyes never left her hands.

Quinn bit her lip because she knew if she didn't, she was going to do very, very bad things with it. Every time she and Rachel got close, some parent was entering the room and demanding Endless Virginity status. You have to get married first, Judy would spout. We can't even _get_ married, they would argue. Feet on the floor or say goodbye to the door, Russell taunted. They switched to the couch after that one. Pregnancy miracles happen every day, Leroy chided, it could happen to you, too!

They had no response to that one.

But now, now they were at school and their parents were nowhere to be seen. They were working like good adults should. They were busy.

And Quinn was about get busy herself.

She slid her fingers the last two inches and found underwear. Rachel's tongue shot out to caress her own front teeth and snagged Quinn's attention in the process.

"I'm just so excited to dance the night away, you know?" Tina's voice broke through their haze. They smiled and Quinn pressed on. Both pointer fingers ran flat over Rachel's underwear and her eyes snapped shut at the feeling.

_Harder_, she mouthed.

Quinn did it again with more pressure and felt the dampness. She felt the little bud she'd played with once when she was lucky enough to get her mouth down there for two minutes before having to eat _dinner_.

No, thanks, she preferred Rachel.

She circled a finger over it and Rachel's hips rolled forward.

_That's my girl_, she told her and gave her more pressure.

"Did Finn ask Quinn yet?" Mercedes broke in and Quinn stopped her ministrations, unfortunately for Rachel. "He was so nervous in second period. I told him to relax. Because Quinn is just a girl…"

"Standing in front of boy…" Tina mocked.

"Asking her to love him," they both finished with a giggle.

"I love that movie. Can we watch that after the dance? We're going to Kurt's, right?"

"You know it!" Mercedes boasted.

"Is Puck bringing Rachel?" she asked. Quinn's eyes shot up to the brunette's. Why was Quinn looking at her like that? Why did she look confused, hurt, and jealous? Rachel clicked her head to the left in curiosity and the girls outside continued.

"Yeah, he is. But he said she had mentioned something about wanting to go home after the dance because she'd be tired or something, I don't know. So he lined up a second a date for the party in true Puck fashion."

A second _date_?

Rachel watched Quinn's eyes flame red hot and regret loomed over her.

Okay, there it was.

She saw her mistake. She had messed up. She had messed up big time.

Those fingers yanked out from under her skirt and Quinn looked away.

Rachel dropped her eyes and the girls continued.

"Come on, I need to show you the corsage. Kurt brought it to school in a little mini cooler to make sure it was perfect beforehand."

"Man, it's really too bad he's gay."

"I know!" They laughed and walked out of the bathroom.

Quinn shot to her feet with a huff and dropped Rachel flat on her ass.

"Uncalled for!" she groaned from the tiles. "Why are you so angry?"

"You're going to Homecoming with Puck as your _date_?" Quinn spat, wrenched open the stall and marched to the sinks. Rachel watched from the floor and wondered where exactly this had gone wrong. She crawled to her feet, brushed off her skirt and walked calmly up to her girlfriend.

"Quinn. We agreed not to go together. You were there. I remember you being there for that conversation."

"Um, yes, but you went and got a date instead? That's what that conversation said to you? We won't be going together, but you're free to get a date? Really, Rachel?" Quinn flipped on the water and washed her hands rapidly; she needed Rachel off them.

"Okay, stop. Stop!" Rachel reprimanded and stilled Quinn's hands. She shut the water off and stepped between the sink and the blonde currently looking everywhere but at her. "It is not a _date _date. He knows this. He said Finn wanted to take you and he wanted to take me and I figured since we aren't taking each other, it would be fun to go with two best friends… as friends."

Quinn shook her head. Rachel sighed and continued.

"Not to point blame here, but you are the reason we are not going to Homecoming together."

Quinn stepped back and those eyes finally found Rachel.

"Excuse me?"

"You heard me. I want to come out. I'm ready to come out. I would love if all our friends knew about us just like our families. It's time, it's right, and it's okay. And you keep saying no. _You_ keep saying no. So yes, I got a friend date for Homecoming so I had someone to buy me a flower and someone to hold my arm getting out of cars and someone to stand next to me in my picture. Sorry if that's outrageous to you. You think I want to do all of that _alone_?"

"That is so unfair and you know it," Quinn growled.

"Why? Because you think you're doing this for me?"

"I am!"

"You keep saying that. You keep saying it's all about me and protecting me and us from their leers and their nastiness, but I am flat telling you I do not care! And you are flat telling me that you do! This is on you!"

"Isn't that so convenient."

"Actually, yeah. And I'm not going to let you guilt trip me into going to a high school dance alone when I have a perfectly nice friend asking me to go with him. We will both be there, same car, same dinner, and same dance. I'm practically going with you."

"But you're not!"

"Because of you! _God_, Quinn!" Rachel exploded and stormed towards the door. "All I want is to go with you! Don't you see that this is option B for me? You're yelling like I've betrayed you when all I really did was find a way to not be so sad about it."

Quinn's anger poured out of her toes until nothing was left.

"I'm sorry."

Rachel shrugged her shoulders in dejection.

"Don't be sorry. Just go with Finn. Come to the dance with us, with me. We can forget about all this," she sighed, locked her eyes on the sad blonde once more and then left.

Quinn would not be going to the dance with Finn Hudson. She wouldn't lead a boy on and she wouldn't watch Puck paw at Rachel all night.

No, that was not sufficient. She needed a plan. She needed to fix this.

She needed Fred.

Later that night, Rachel sat next to Puck at the overpriced restaurant with her undercooked salmon and Puck's overused cologne. A blonde Cheerio, in a red dress of course, sat beside her. The girl's left hand splayed across Finn's lap.

He'd attempted to ask Quinn, but she never showed to class. So Patty Perdue would do, he figured. If he couldn't have Quinn, Patty Perdue would definitely do.

Rachel looked her over. She was almost the spitting image of Quinn, minus all the nuances that made Quinn… Quinn. Her eyes were blue. They didn't light up. When she smiled, she only showed her top teeth. Quinn beamed and Rachel thought she could almost fit her fist inside that mouth each time.

She loved that about her. She smiled like she meant it. She laughed like she meant it. She never did anything like she didn't mean it.

God, why was she there without her?

Principle? To prove a point? To enjoy an adolescent milestone?

She poked her salmon.

It so wasn't worth it.

Later, she was wrapped up in Puck's arms dancing to one club song after the next. Each song seemed to bring a new "night of our lives" message and all Rachel could think about was how a night would never be the night of her life if Quinn wasn't by her side.

Puck watched the sadness creep around her eyes all night. He watched her fake smiles; they never reached her eyes. He watched her laugh half-heartedly at jokes; she never quite hit that normally shrill Rachel Berry decibel.

She was going through the motions and for what? Why?

"Rach, wanna go outside?" he shouted over the music and twirled her again. Faux cityscape sceneries beamed at them from every angle. Lights danced, disco balls swirled, and confetti fell randomly. Everything about it would've been perfect.

Would've been.

And now Puck wanted to take her outside. Why?

"Okay," she agreed against her better judgment. He laced his fingers through hers and led them through the undulating, pulsing crowd and out the front doors. Brisk October air cooled their beady foreheads instantly and Rachel wrapped her arms around herself.

Puck shucked his jacket off his shoulders and placed it over hers. His bright pink vest still made her smile. He was the perfect gentleman and had been all night.

"You look good in pink, mister," she grinned and followed him to the curb. "Thank you for being a good sport about it."

They plopped down and he leaned back on his palms, attention to the stars and feet crossed out in front. She cuddled into her knees and waited for the purpose of this exit to reveal itself.

"I'm comfortable in my masculinity," he grinned.

"Of course."

She elbowed his sturdy side and then focused back on her knees and the pebbles on the street below. She picked one up and tossed it a few feet away. It landed like she knew it would. She found comfort in the predictability.

Puck ran his eyes over her. Rachel Berry, at her best, was vibrant to the point of annoyance. She never stopped talking, she never stopped smiling, she never stopped being up in your face, and she rarely stepped five feet away from one Quinn Fabray.

He'd never thought twice about until right then. Quinn was the sole factor this evening. She was nowhere to be seen and because of that, this new Rachel Berry appeared.

Coincidence? Puck may have spent his time in juvey, but he knew when things added up and when things added up to something, it was normally what they added up to.

"Can I ask you something?" he led.

She perked up, curious eyes landing on his and nodded.

"Sure, always."

"Are you in love with Quinn?"

Okay, that's _not_ what she thought was going to come out of his mouth. Oh my god, that's not what she thought was going to come out of his mouth! What should she- could she tell- no, Quinn would freak but- well he seems cool- but she would so freak- how should she- maybe text her- no she's pissed- oh my god where was life's manual?

"You can stop freaking out. That look and reaction just gave me my answer," he smirked and leaned forward before pulling his knees up like hers. He picked up a pebble and launched it across the parking it. A distant crack followed and he winced. "Oops."

"Dumbass."

"Lesbian."

Rachel huffed, to save a bit of face, and then gave in with a helpless nod.

"How long?"

"March."

"Of this year?"

"Yeah," she giggled. "She kissed me one day in her room and everything made sense after that."

"Made sense?" he pried and landed his deep eyes on hers. He was genuinely intrigued and concerned; she could tell. He was listening to her words and not thinking about them kissing. That was box number one in the "Could Puck Be a Confidant?" check list.

"Have you ever kissed someone and almost felt life click into place?" she asked, unable to contain the dreamy grin spreading across her face. His eyes left hers at that and she was unsure why.

"Yeah," he muttered and tossed another rock. A distant crack sounded in return.

"Noah, stop that," she chided and smacked at his hands.

"I like when you call me Noah."

"Do you? Or are you being perverted?"

"I'm being serious right now. Can't you tell when I'm being serious?" he smirked. She craned back, eyed him up and down, and then shook her head. Noah was never not dirty.

"Pervert."

He laughed and silence settled back over them as she aligned more pebbles in straight rows, two by two by two. And then she realized he avoided her question.

"Hey, wait. So who clicked for you?" she beamed, eager for the gossip and even more eager for the friendship. He turned, seriousness rushing over him and locked his knowing eyes on hers.

She knew in an instant.

Quinn.

"Oh."

"Yeah."

She looked back to her pebbles. And then she swiped the design away before darting her gaze back to him and then away.

"I um, I don't…"

"You don't have to say anything. It's way in the past. Clearly. She was just special, but you already know that."

The defeat in his shoulders broke her heart. She knew exactly how he felt, not because she'd lost Quinn, but because she couldn't imagine how it would feel to not have her. And that feeling, it made her want to throw up.

She leaned into his side and wrapped an arm around his suited waist. Her dropped his muscular arm over her dainty shoulder and held tight.

"So we fell in love with the same girl," she said.

"Mhm."

"You know what this means?"

"What's that?"

"Bros for life," she giggled. The hearty laugh he expelled made her insides giddy. He pulled back and looked down at her shiny brown eyes beaming back at him.

The only thing this girl ever wanted was friends. And right then, he decided he could give her that.

"Okay, Berry. Bros for life."

She squealed, clapped and guffawed under his arm. It was the first time he felt love for her and he would spend years growing it, loving her like the sister he never had.

"I give you permission to leave me here. Go find Quinn," he muttered. She looked up at him and he nodded with a smile. "Really. My second date was eager to be my first and will have no problem moving up the timeframe. I'll be fine. You know you want to."

"I do."

"So then go."

"I can't thank you enough for tonight."

It meant everything to her, to have this conversation with a friend and have it go as well as it did and to breed a new friendship over a bond they'd probably feel forever. She hoped they'd feel it forever. She would try her hardest. Her side of the street would never be lacking, she swore it then and there.

"You don't need to thank me," he said. "That's what brothers are for."

She sighed into his side and then stood.

"Keep my jacket," he offered. "So Quinn knows who sent you."

"Anything to make the blonde of our dreams happy, huh?"

"You bet, Berry."

"Thanks, Noah."

"That's my girl."

At that, she walked into the parking lot and called her daddy. When Leroy arrived twenty minutes later, he wasn't as distraught as Rachel imagined he would be. She piled into the front seat in her pink dress and relaxed into the leather.

"Rough night?"

"Kinda, not really. Ended really well. Can you take me to Quinn's?"

"Is Quinn not at the dance?" he asked.

"No, Daddy. She, she didn't go."

"Everything okay? Are you okay? Did she hurt you? You'd tell me if she hurt you, right?"

"Just drive," she huffed.

"I'm not taking you to Quinn's. You can go over there tomorrow. It's ten o'clock at night."

"Daddy!"

"Don't 'Daddy' me. End of story," he denounced and switched on the radio. A familiar song came through and she groaned; of course the radio would be so kind as to play her and Quinn's song.

She rolled her eyes and leaned into the window.

High school adolescence sucked. And she kept that mentality all the way home, even though Leroy tried every which avenue to get her talking. She should be at Quinn's right now losing her virginity. She should be beneath the girl she loved, making love, feeling love, expelling love, but no, she was marching up to her bedroom in a dislodged dress as her father hollered from the bottom of the stairs about no sneaking out of her window or something like that.

She never thought about that, Daddy, but thanks for putting it in her head. She sneered and pushed around the corner into her bedroom.

And Leroy finally released his shining grin from the stairs.

Because when Rachel stormed into her room, she was met with Quinn.

She hovered in a baby blue dress, standing in the middle of Rachel's room with nightlights streaming from every available plug. Blues, pinks, oranges, greens, yellows, and reds flooded over them.

And Quinn smiled.

Rachel froze.

"What is this?" she asked.

"Homecoming: Scared Homosexual Style."

Quinn bounced her shoulders in a self-deprecating, defeated and helpless shrug. She coupled it with a sad smile and clasped her clammy hands together. The room shimmered around her and the same song from the car played lightly in the background.

Rachel cocked her head.

There was no way it was the same song on the same station or even a different station. Her jaw hit the floor and she marched back to the door to peer down the stairs. She found both her fathers a foot away from her door, ears to wall and sappy faces plastered. They jumped a mile high and shuffled to their bedroom.

"Sorry! Sorry," they stuttered and slammed their door. She shook her head, closed her own door, and walked back to Quinn.

"You persuaded Daddy to help you?"

"Wheedled may be a better word, but yes."

"Did you tell him what you did?" she asked with a hand to her hip.

"I did. I told him I hindered our high school adolescence milestone progression by projecting my own personal fears of being gay onto you by claiming I was protecting you."

"You did not tell him all that!"

"No, I didn't," she admitted. "But I did tell him I screwed up and had disappointed you by not being true to myself and to us."

"Kinda the same."

"Less words and mimicry," she grinned. "Forgive me?"

Rachel eyed the blonde standing before her. She could see why Noah fell in love just as she had. She was striking, breathtakingly beautiful and awe-inspiring. And she did things like this; she lit your bedroom with night lights to give you your own homosexual homecoming dance because she was too much of a chicken to go to the real one.

Rachel found it impossibly endearing.

"So you burned our song to two cds. You bought," she looked around the room, "seven multi-colored night lights. And you convinced my Daddy not to hate you so that you could give me a homecoming dance with you, my girlfriend, in my very own bedroom. Is this all correct?"

"Fred actually had the night lights. And H burned the cds. And Mom gave me the dress," she mumbled, some kind of shyness rolling over her. She shrugged again because she couldn't not be this way for Rachel. If that's what whipped meant, then whipped she was.

"What about Papa Russ?" she asked, a bit intrigued on his part.

"He drove me over here?" Quinn offered. "And he spent about fifteen minutes working up the courage to tell me he was proud of me."

"He said that?" Rachel beamed and took a few steps forward, their song turning over and playing yet again. "Is this the only song on this cd?"

"I didn't know when you would walk in. I couldn't risk it not being the track playing at that moment. And yes, Dad said he was proud of me after choking over many, many words."

"I'm proud of you, too."

"Don't be," she sighed. "I don't deserve it."

"Sure you do. I know I said what I said earlier, but I don't ever want to pressure you. You tell people when you're ready. And I'll make better decisions and fill you in beforehand. How's that sound?"

"That sounds perfect."

Quinn would be eternally thankful for them and how they dealt with each other and lived and were and existed. Everything about them pleased her. And she was ready for the world to know that.

"So what's next on-" Rachel started.

"Wait just a second," she said and pulled out her phone. She clicked multiple buttons for over a minute and then held the phone out to Rachel. The screen lit her face and Rachel read the words:

**I'm in love with Rachel Berry. We've been dating since March. Anyone who has a problem with that can go screw themselves (this means you, Santana). Deal with it. -HBIC**

Rachel looked up to the address line and saw the group name "Glee Dorks" peering back at her. Quinn was going to out them by text message. And Rachel couldn't contain the giddiness and the hilarity that the action instilled in her. It was perfect.

"Tell me to send it and I will," Quinn said, pulled the phone back and hovered her finger over the Send button.

"HBIC signed, sealed, and delivered?" Rachel mused and Quinn nodded. "Go ahead, baby. Make me proud."

Quinn hit Send, switched her phone to silent, tossed it to the desk and reached out. She gripped the front of that gorgeous pink dress and brought Rachel to her.

"I love you."

"Just kiss me," she begged and Quinn did. She was so head over for this girl and now everyone would know it. Quinn kissed her with fervor, wrapping her arms around her shoulders and pulling her forever closer. Their feet picked up the rhythm of their song drifting over them and Rachel melted, her lips finding Quinn's and never leaving. They could stay there for life and it would be too short.

Rachel wouldn't lose her virginity that night, but she gained something better: commitment, announcement, loyalty, and Quinn Fabray in a baby blue gown. Nothing would ever be more beautiful.

It was perfect.

And on the desk behind them, responses flooded in:

"I knew I wasn't the problem in our relationship!"

"Berry? Really, Quinn? She's so tiny. And I'm _Asian!"_

"Don't single me out, you bitch. You haven't been HBIC in months!"

"What is HBIC? I asked Lord Tubbington and he says it's a bank."

"Gay population = THREE! OMG QUEENIE FREAKOUT!"

"From one diva about another, run while you can, Q. Run while you can."

"Treat her right. If I can't have you, _she_ should."


	16. Chapter 15  Summer Before College July

July - Summer Before College

_I Feel Carsick._

They hadn't spoken in forty-five minutes. Was it forty-five? Or was it more? Was it less? God, her insides were on fire and Quinn's hand on her thigh failed to help.

Among the many things they had not spoken about was the afternoon on the boat. They needed to talk about it. Why were they not talking about it? It'd been three weeks. They watched movies. They played in the pool. They went biking. They took hikes. They did absolutely everything _but_ talk about the kiss that day on the boat.

It was driving her absolutely mad: proximity, geography, the obvious effort to elude, and even the hand on her thigh.

And then the hand twitched.

Rachel gulped, looked at it, and then forced her eyes back on the television hanging on the wall opposite them. Maury was going over this and that and whose baby belonged to which daddy.

She needed air.

She shifted her feet buried underneath her; they were going numb. The leather couch squeaked. Quinn looked at her.

"…it was the couch."

The blonde smiled. And then she looked back at the television.

Could Maury really be that interesting? Summer afternoon television seriously lacked quality programming. It was stifling.

Or maybe it was the fact that she couldn't breathe.

God, she couldn't breathe. The thoughts in her head and the feelings in her heart suffocated her every second of every day and it was enough.

Enough.

It would hurt, but god she needed air; she kicked her legs out from under her and rotated around to perch against the opposite armrest. Quinn's hand fell to the couch as Rachel successfully put two feet of space between them.

The blonde looked at her again.

Rachel wished she could read her like a book like she used to. Her peripheral vision failed to give any details as she kept her eyes on the television.

And Quinn kept her eyes on Rachel.

Seriously, _what _was she thinking?

"Where are you going?" Quinn asked.

Oh no.

"Nowhere?" Rachel answered to Maury.

"Okay, then what are you _doing_?"

Dammit. She shot her eyes to her ex.

"I'm _breathing_, Quinn. Give me a break."

The blonde looked back to the television.

And Rachel took a breath.

"Ice water?" Quinn offered and thrust a glass into Rachel's view. She peeled off her sunglasses and looked up to her left to find an angel of the sun staring down at her.

"Thanks."

She needed anything to help cool herself off as they relaxed by the pool now. The entertainment room, all four hundred huge square feet of it, became unbearable. Rachel stood, went into the spare room adjacent the tv room, grabbed her spare suit that set in the same old spot, and marched into the bathroom to change.

After, she grabbed a towel off the rod and walked back through the room. She cut across the center and Quinn's eyes left the television to follow her.

"I'm going swimming," she said.

And Quinn followed.

Now, as they lay by the pool, Rachel's plan backfired. The burning sun lit her already hot skin from the inside out and Quinn wore the red bikini she knew drove Rachel nuts. Surprise, surprise, she was doing everything in her power to drive her nuts and all Rachel wanted to do was toss her in the pool, dunk her, and then throw ice cold water over her head.

She needed time. She needed conversation. She needed friendship. She also needed Quinn on her, over her, and inside her, but the blonde didn't need to know that!

The drink angel set the water glass down on the table between them and relaxed down on her chair beside Rachel.

"Pretty day, right?" she asked.

God, more pointless conversation? They'd leave for college in a month and if they didn't deal with everything before then, it would implode in the big city and they would have no hope of finding their way back to each other.

She needed to rectify this and fast.

"Can we talk?"

"Always," Quinn smiled.

"I mean, about _this_," Rachel gestured to them.

"What's _this_?" Quinn gestured back.

"Exactly," she huffed.

The blonde looked away. She had no idea how to deal with Rachel. She didn't know what to say, how to put them on track, how to successfully rebuild, or how to proceed the right way. She didn't know anything. She was eighteen! What does an eighteen year old know about death and love and relationships built around those things?

"Rach, I don't… I don't know what to say. I wish I did. I keep trying to figure out what to say, but words fail me. Actions, not so much."

"Clearly," she smiled. "Look, I don't know what to say either, but I don't like how I feel right now."

"Okay, let's maybe start there. How do you feel right now?" she asked and turned on her side to face Rachel. The brunette took a swig of ice water, ran nervous hands through her hair and took off her sunglasses before turning on her side to face Quinn as well.

"How honest do we want to be?" she smirked. Quinn laughed. Even in their most awkward scenarios she could find reasons to love this girl.

"As honest as you feel comfortable. I'm not going anywhere. Let's have it," she offered and felt fear loom immediately. Maybe she wasn't as sturdy as she was assuring Rachel she was. Be a rock, Quinn. She needed a rock, be a rock.

"Part of me hates you."

She was _so not_ going to be a rock. Tears pooled in her eyes instantly and Rachel continued while staring at her own fidgeting hands. "The other part of me can't bear not touching you because I am still so magnificently in love with you."

Okay, _that_ was a little better.

Quinn took a gulp of fresh air and leapt:

"So which part of you wins?"

"Neither. Not yet. That's my problem."

"Oh."

"Yeah."

Quinn rolled to her back. Rachel watched the thoughts pouring over the girl and hung her head in shame. Why did she have to say that?

Rachel rolled to her back as well.

Clouds filled their view, nothing but clouds.

The silence spanned throughout the afternoon. Quinn couldn't find anything to say next and Rachel lost her courage for honesty. Not even the cool pool water or chirping birds felt refreshing.

"I should go home for dinner," Rachel spoke. Quinn looked up from the foot of her bed to Rachel at the head, magazine in her lap and one headphone dangling from her left ear.

"Mom and Dad said it was fine for you to stay."

"I know. I just… Dad is at home, alone, and I should probably go join him since we leave in a month and all," she muttered and organized her things.

Quinn felt them sitting on a precipice, a big fat precipice of change. They would either power forward or the awkwardness would drain them completely, leaving absolutely nothing left.

This was her chance to force it the way she wanted.

"Maybe I could come with you?" Quinn whispered, unsure and terrified of how the question would land. Rachel looked up from stuffing her bag and found Quinn's pleading eyes.

"You want to come eat dinner with my Dad?"

She clenched her trembling hands; H still hated her. But Rachel needed this. Quinn needed this. H needed this. And Leroy needed this.

"Yes. I want to come have dinner with you and H."

"It would be awk-"  
>"I don't care."<p>

"Quinn," she appeased. "You don't have to do that."

The blonde sat up, crossed her legs and looked Rachel square in the eye.

"I'm going to say something and I just want you to listen, okay? Can you not be Rachel Berry for about sixty seconds so I can get this out uninterrupted?"

"That's offensive."

"It's true."

"But offensive."

"And you're proving my point."

Rachel rolled her eyes, huffed, and gave Quinn a shrug while zipping her lips and tossing the key into Quinn's lap. Could she be more adorable?

"Okay. Where to start?" she hummed and looked off into nothing.

Rachel cocked an eyebrow. She figured this little speech was already planned, but Quinn was searching for it?

Hazel eyes locked on hers and anchors slammed her to the ground.

"I'm still in love with you. But you know that."

Rachel's shoulders relaxed and her heart seeped out of her toes as Quinn looked over her: walls gone, vulnerabilities on display, and nothing to lose.

"I will never apologize enough for how I acted back in November. I, I couldn't remember who I was or what I was doing or what was even supposed to be _right_," she whimpered. "But I want to make it up to you. I want to be the friend you always thought I was and yes, eventually, the girlfriend you always thought I was. And facing H is step one. He thinks the least of me out of everyone and I need to deal with that if I want to realistically deal with you. And I do. I want us to get better."

"I do, too," Rachel blurted and then smacked a hand over her mouth. "Sorry. Sorry, I was doing so well!" she beamed and reached across the bed to take Quinn's hand. The blonde watched their fingers lace together like perfection; like peanut butter to jelly; like strawberries and chocolate; like Sonny and Cher.

She pulled her eyes up to Rachel's.

They broke open on their anchors and possibility poured out.

"You did do well. I can be done," Quinn smiled and gave her a squeeze.

"No, I don't want you to be done if you have more to say."

"I'll _always_ have more to say to you."

Hesitation escaped Rachel; she leaned forward and placed her lips softly over Quinn's. She held it for the few seconds she could handle as comfort and love ran over her and when she pulled back, she felt the hot breath of Quinn's sigh waft over her own lips.

"You are a great friend, Bee. Don't ever think otherwise."

It was the first time Quinn heard her nickname since two weeks before graduation and it felt like happiness. Whatever happiness felt like, that's what it was. It was upon her, loving her, rolling her up and giving her another shot.

And this time, she wouldn't blow it.

"I told you no on the phone, Rachel!" H barked from the other side of the front door. Something in Quinn knew this wouldn't go well and also knew Rachel had lied about her dad being happy about Quinn coming for dinner.

But she went anyway.

And now, she stood on the front porch alone while Rachel argued with H on the other side of the door. He'd opened the door, seen their faces, and slammed it promptly.

These moments shouldn't happen to an eighteen year old.

They shouldn't.

"Dad, she wants to move forward," she could hear Rachel whisper.

"I don't care what _she_ wants. She's done enough damage! There is no forward in my book. Go out there and tell her to go home."

And then there was nothing.

Quinn wanted to cry. Wait, no she _was_ crying. She slid down the wall next to the door, wiped a tear and waited for Rachel to come back out. She knew the girl was gathering herself on the other side. How long would it take her to prepare an excuse for Quinn? How long would it take her to get her courage up to come outside and knowingly hurt Quinn?

How long would it take, Rachel?

And then the brunette proved her completely wrong.

"Dad! Dad! You don't dictate my…" she hollered and Quinn heard descending footsteps and muffled shouts continue off into the distance. She couldn't make out their words anymore, but she could hear Rachel fighting.

Rachel fought hard for her, for them.

Quinn smiled.

She wiped another stray tear and looked out over the darkened street. She hadn't been on this side of the neighborhood in months. She avoided it like the plague. But there was Gran Beasley sitting on her rocker on the front porch next door staring back at Quinn.

The woman rocked and rocked, slow and redundant.

It hypnotized Quinn under the low light of the porch lamp, mosquitoes fluttering all around and dust caking the wooden planks below her. Dusty planks, she thought. The porch never used to be dusty.

One more piece of wear and tear in the wake of last fall.

She looked back over to Gran Beasley.

She hadn't seen the old rickety woman since that day in November when the dainty lady tried to pull Quinn from the crying heap of mess on her knees in the Berry's front yard.

Quinn owed her a thank you.

She wiped dusty palms over her jean clad knees and crawled to her feet. She pressed her ear to the front door again and heard the same yelling. Rachel was giving it to him and H was giving it right back. A Berry on Berry argument, lord help the world.

She dragged her feet down the steps, across the front yard and up to the porch railing of the Beasley's house. What do you say to someone who looks like they're from the crypt?

"Miss Fabray," she drawled.

"Yes, ma'am. I, um, how are you this evening?"

Gran Beasley smiled, fondly remembering her own children's shyness and gave Quinn a nod to bring her on the porch. The blonde walked around, up the worn steps and plopped herself down in the rocker beside her.

"This is Gramp Beasley's, right?" Quinn asked.

"His name is Hal. You can call him Hal."

"Oh. Okay. What is, what's your name?"

"Alma."

"It's nice to meet you, I mean officially. I wanted to thank you for-"

"Don't even. No thanks needed."

Quinn smiled sweetly and kicked off the porch to start her own rocking. The summer air rustled around her.

"Everything going okay over there?" Alma questioned.

"Berry household fight, father vee daughter."

"Oh my," she gasped. "How long do they last?"

Quinn giggled at the lady's wide eyes and crinkled smile.

"I don't know. I've never seen one happen between them. They _never_ fight."

"The other one used to yell a bunch, I remember," she smiled. "Most times at you if I do recall correctly."

Quinn bit her bottom lip and fondly remembered all the times Leroy had reprimanded her for being on Rachel, talking "sultry" to Rachel, or overall being within five feet of Rachel.

"Yes, he is very protective of his daughter," Quinn agreed.

"Was."

Crap.

"Right. _Was_ protective," she muttered and her rocking slowed. Alma eyed the regretful girl. She looked as if she could burst with words, with things unspoken, and with overall emotion. She dug her fingers into the wooden chair and kept her eyes peeled to any inanimate object she could handle.

"Darling, you sure you're okay? You haven't been 'round much lately. What brings you over tonight?"

"Um… a clean slate?"

Alma rocked back a bit harder and grinned.

"I do like a clean slate," she smiled at Quinn with a wink. "How did you get yours?"

"I asked for it?"

"You didn't do anything?"

"Well, I apologized for stuff. And I said I wanted to try."

"Honey, clean slates become clean because you deal with what you're both feeling and you leave nothing unsaid."

"Oh."

"You've just bought yourself time, frankly."

"Time until what?" Quinn wondered and stopped rocking.

"Until the explosion that grants you that clean slate."

"Explosion?"

"There's always an explosion, dear," she smiled sweetly.

The Berry's front door opened and a defeated, crying Rachel stepped out into the sullen light. Fear overtook her as she whipped her gaze around the empty yard. Quinn was nowhere in sight. She left. She _left_?

Quinn shot to her feet and pressed against the Beasley's side railing.

"Rachel!" The girl's gaze pulled left and her eyes landed on Quinn. "I'm over here."

Rachel walked to the edge of their porch, watched Gran Beasley stand over on hers, give Quinn a squeeze to the shoulder, whisper something in her ear and then go inside.

Quinn stood with her hands on the railing looking across the thirty feet of dark grass between them. It could've been an ocean.

"Dinner is off," Rachel said.

Quinn nodded, with nothing to do but stand and stare, and Gran Beasley's last words echoed over in her head: _Say everything now and save later._

"Come here," she called out. Rachel tucked a stray hair, walked down their dusty steps, padded across the lush grass and met Quinn on the Beasley's dark stairs. Just out of reach of the low lamp on their porch, the girls turned and took a seat.

The dark, quiet street brought no distractions or comfort. Their thighs sidled up against each other and Quinn reached into Rachel's lap to grab one of her twitchy hands.

"Sorry about my dad," Rachel muttered and let that familiar hand lace over hers. Quinn took the opportunity and ran with it.

"No, I'm sorry about your dad."

"You don't have any reason to-"

"I mean Leroy."

Rachel drew her lips into her mouth and Quinn pushed forward.

"Rach, I'm so, so sorry," she muttered and laid her head on Rachel's shivering shoulder. She grasped tighter around those fingers and brought her other hand over to grip them as well. She pulled Rachel's hand into her lap and held tight.

Rachel's chin took flight, and then her bottom lip, and then the pools of tears in her eyes set free. Soft sobs flooded the dead air and Quinn only held tighter.

"I should've been there. I shouldn't have said what I said. I shouldn't have done what I did. I was all backwards and out of my mind for what had happened and what was happening to us.

"But I'm here now. And I'm going nowhere. And I miss him. I miss him so much. I miss the way he used to yell at me. I miss the way he called you Baby Girl," she continued and Rachel only sobbed. "I miss the way he took our laundry and would hide anything he deemed inappropriate. I miss the way he believed in you, so much that even that one time he came up to the school and yelled at Mr. Schue for giving Mercedes that lead in Dream Girls instead of you. And how he said he'd never felt more white," she giggled and Rachel choked out a chuckle.

"I miss the way he would leave us new cds to learn. And the way he would bring me new books his mom used to read to him growing up. He knew us inside and out," she stumbled over her draining tears. "He was like my third father," she cried. "I miss him so much and I'm so sorry it's taken me so long to be able to mention his name to you, talk about to him, and god, even be here for you."

Rachel cleared her throat and used her spare palm to wipe dripping tears away.

"What about Serial Killer Leroy?" she giggled messily.

"I miss him, too," Quinn muttered and turned her face into Rachel's shirt to wipe her tears. Rachel drew her hand up to blonde hair and ran comforting fingers through it. She gasped out for air, taking in a huge refreshing breath and calming her tears. Quinn squeezed her hand to spur her on.

"I feel numb. But also like everything hurts."

Quinn picked her head up and looked at the girl.

"What hurts?"

"All the voids," she mumbled. "Like I'm missing an arm."

"And H?"

"He cries at night. And I can see him letting himself go."

"I noticed the porch is dirty."

"He doesn't clean anything anymore. I do. Yesterday, he didn't even brush his hair," she stuttered out through fresh tears and shook her head. "It sounds so silly, but-"

"It's not."

"No, it's not."

Quiet took them over and Quinn moved one hand around Rachel's back to tighten around her waist. Rachel snuggled into her side like normal and exhaled a devastated breath before continuing.

It would be her first time talking about this. She could do it. She could?

"I'm afraid that… I'm afraid that…"

She couldn't.

She tried and lost herself. Her composure crumbled and those new tears poured free. They poured everything free. She curled across Quinn's lap, the body she always needed and failed her until now, and let her tears cry empty.

Quinn gripped her tighter, dragged fingers through her hair and laid her cheek down on Rachel's back. Her heart pounded through her sweater and it was music to Quinn's ears. It steadied her. It breathed into hers. It gave her hope.

She watched those tears streak across their muddy slate, revealing bright lines of shine, one step closer to clean.


	17. Chapter 16 HS Junior Year October

Late October - Junior Year

_It's Gotta Be the Sparkplug, right? What's a Sparkplug?_

"How much is that doggie in the window," Quinn sang and fastened the makeshift touch-light bra over her silver t-shirt. Rachel looked up from the bed, moose ears flopping on either side of her head, and threw daggers into her girlfriend.

"That's not even a little bit funny, Quinn. You get to wear a Madonna type light up bra and I get to wear floppy ears, brown paint on my nose, an antler hat, and a furry outfit!"

"Gives a whole new meaning to you being a brown noser, yeah?" Quinn muttered and pulled on her white washed, holy jeans and stuck the flaps of Leroy's hand-drawn felt into her back pockets. Satisfied, she turned to Rachel and held out her arms in full display.

The girl scoffed.

"You look ridiculous."

"Says the girl wearing an antler hat."

"Ugh! Seriously. Why can't we do _my _plan for this evening?" Rachel groaned and slung herself back on the bed. Quinn took in the girl dressed as an animal and tried so incredibly, incredibly hard not to laugh at her.

And then she failed.

"You look so cute," she mused and watched the Rachel-Moose flail about on her bed.

"Are you even listening to me?" she huffed and ripped herself off the bed, grabbed her midsection piece and fastened it around the furry brown shirt. She inspected the rest of her costume and then mimicked Quinn with arms out on display.

Oh my god. She was the epitome of adorable.

Quinn looked to the open door for any parents and then back to her girlfriend standing there dressed as the most lovably pitiful moose.

"So fucking cute," Quinn murmured and walked to her.

"Mmm, dirty mouth, Bee."

"Mhm," she purred and wrapped her arms around her little creature. The lights on her chest slid against Rachel's furry shirt and she giggled.

"Your mouth would've been hotter had you not checked the hall for my parents first, you chicken," Rachel chided.

"Whatever. Kiss your girlfriend," she demanded, slipped a hand under Rachel's long hair and brought them together.

The kiss went from zero to sixty before they knew it, like most kisses nowadays. Tongues fought, hands grasped, hips collided.

Rachel walked her into the side of the bed.

Normally, the resistance was enough to stop their progression, but Quinn's furry friend failed to stop this time; Rachel pushed forward, sending Quinn backwards, and crawled on top of her.

"Rach," she whimpered as the girl's hands found every inch of her faster than Quinn thought possible. Rachel's tongue slipped further into her mouth, her fingers latched on to Quinn's jeans and before the blonde could blink, Rachel's hand slipped underneath and over her underwear.

She pushed hard into Quinn and sent her careening off the bed, the ghettofied tap-light bra thrusting up to the ceiling.

God, Rachel wanted her. She ran her fingers over Quinn's damp underwear, sliding south and drawing circles over where she really wanted to be. She detached her lips from the addictive blonde's and trailed down her jaw, over her ear, and across her neck, Quinn's panting providing her own little back beat to her ministrations. She husked in the blonde's ear and swirled her fingers against Quinn.

"If you had agreed to my plan, we could be discarding that underwear right this second," she groaned and bit down hard. She wasn't bitter at all.

Quinn shivered, slowly losing her control.

"I'm, I'm sorry. But, um, but getting a hotel at sixteen just so we could have sex finally, well, it's, it's not very realistic," she panted.

Her legs spread to give Rachel more room and she could feel smiling lips against her collarbone. Ugh, that move would do nothing to deflate the girl's ego.

"We could've worked it out, Quinn. We have four parents, four credit cards, and a Morgan Freeman at our disposal. We could've worked it out," she said, ran her tongue back up Quinn's neck and locked onto her lips.

"I'm na checkin into a hotel jus to have sex wit you," Quinn muttered over tongues, between lips, and through sucking.

"Girls, did you get your- Seriously?" Leroy groaned from the door. Rachel ripped herself off Quinn, pulling the girl's shirt over her fly in the process, and stood.

She threw on her most Innocent Moose face and smiled.

Leroy shook his head.

"I walk away for ten minutes and this is what happens? You're like boys."

Quinn craned her chin up and looked at Leroy upside down.

"I was completely innocent in this situation, Mr. Berry."

"Please. I know your type," he grunted. Quinn rolled to her stomach with a gasp, ready to fight the accusation. Her tap-lights popped on with the added pressure and Leroy's eyes snapped to them.

She tapped the left off and then the right, accidentally tapping the left back on. She smacked it off harder and triggered the right back on.

"Shit."

She hit both at the same time to turn them off and waited.

The left flickered a bit. She tapped it again and sent the right back on. She held the left still, tapped the right off, and waited.

Leroy looked at Rachel.

Rachel hung her head.

Quinn remained fixated on her dark breasts, daring them for more. When ten seconds of darkness passed, she figured they were done for.

She looked up to Leroy and Rachel, ready to fight, and found them both glowing back at her with amused grins.

"What?"

"Just keep your breasts calm tonight, okay?" Leroy chuckled.

"I, they, it's not my fault!"

"Just keep… your breasts… calm," he emphasized, walked over to the bed and set the old plaid hat down on her head. Blonde hair fell out from under it and as Quinn pulled her shy gaze up to his, she released a sweet smile.

That's when he knew he loved her.

He loved his daughter's girlfriend just as he loved his daughter.

Wow, he loved his daughter's girlfriend. The person who touched her, would take her away from there, would be responsible for her happiness.

He loved this person?

"What?" she asked.

"Nothing," he whispered and moved his gaze to his animal-donning daughter and then back to her girlfriend staring up at him from under a plaid trucker cap. "You guys look great. You'll be the hit of the party."

"Of course we will. I'm Rachel Berry!"

Quinn turned her disdainful stare at the brunette.

"What? It's true! You are lucky to be on this road-kill's arm!" she spouted haughtily and snapped her hands to her hips. She flipped a floppy ear over her shoulder and presented herself: Rachel Berry Oscar Red-Carpet 2020 style… dressed as a moose with tire tracks over her chest.

Both Leroy and Quinn lost it.

And they never found it. They laughed all the way to the party and as he dropped them off, Leroy watched Rachel haul her moose-clad self out of the front seat and then he reached into backseat to snag the blonde's hand.

She whipped back to him and found watery eyes.

"I know you're getting closer to... I know. Parents know these things. Just… give me a few more months."

"I don't under-"

"Yes, you do. Give me a few more with my baby girl. I won't kill you if you can do this for me. Please," he begged and gave her tiny hand a squeeze. The horrid Green Mile image flooded her mind and then vanished.

"Okay."

"I love you, Quinn."

She couldn't, he said, he what?

He squeezed once more and then set her free. She took her wide eyes and stuttered her way out of the car. The door shut, he grinned, and then pulled off down the street.

"What's wrong?" Rachel asked and took her hand.

"Your Dad just said he loved me."

"_Daddy?"_

"Yeah."

"Oh my god, it's official," she cooed.

"What's official?"

"You're for good. You're family. You're it, love," she leaned in and pressed a kiss to her lips. It was the smallest kiss, but it flooded Quinn with more emotion than she'd ever felt. The second their lips met, she was inhaling. She was inhaling and she couldn't stop.

She had a second family for life? She had two more dads? She had a little creature to love her forever? She had happiness and security? All the love overwhelmed her and her heart actually hurt, needed to breathe, and couldn't pound hard enough beneath Rachel's lips.

And then Rachel popped away, beaming vibrantly at the blonde.

"So now let's have sex and get married!"

Oh. _Right._

"Um, about that."

"_What _about that?" she narrowed her eyes. Quinn hesitated, those eyes boring into hers just daring her to respond. She swallowed the confession.

"Nothing."

Rachel exploded with happiness, laced their fingers and skipped through the front door of Puck's house, pulling a shaken Quinn along behind her. How would she last a few more months with Rachel wanting to check them into a damn motel? How was she to last a few more months when all she wanted was to check Rachel _into_ that damn motel?

"Rachel! Quinn!" Puck wailed from the living room. He jumped over the couch and hauled them into the room. Quinn's dark tap lights and Rachel's antler hat, moose ears, and fluffy tire-tracked fur took center stage.

"Oh my shit," Santana muttered. "Troll, why are you dressed like a mascot? And why is there dirt on your nose?"

"I am not a mascot! I'm a moose."

"A dead moose?" Kurt interjected.

"Well, kinda," Rachel whispered.

"You came to the party as a dead moose?" Finn piped in. Their friends sat amongst the couches in various Halloween costumes, eyes wide and confused expressions glaring back at them. Quinn could've sworn she heard the record player screech to a stop.

"I'm not_ just_ a dead moose. We are a full costume together!" she beamed and gave the blonde a nudge. "Go ahead, Quinn. Tell 'em."

Quinn smirked and turned a slow one-eighty. The glee club took in her ragged jeans, the felt flaps on her back pockets with what looked like the outline of a naked lady on them, her tap light bra, and her trucker hat. And then Rachel turned with antlers, ears, fake tire tracks, and furry body.

They beamed.

Their friends stared.

"I don't get it," Brittany muttered.

"Me either," Finn agreed.

"Are we surprised?" Santana added. "_Finnept_ doesn't get something."

"Neither does Brittany!" he argued.

"Finn, I don't ever get things."

"Guys!" Rachel interrupted. "Seriously, you don't get it?" She turned to Quinn, smacked at her breasts with both hands and the lights popped on. They turned back to the crowd, smiles wide and hands out in display.

Their friends remained frozen.

"Um, can you smack her tits again?" Puck moaned.

"Noah!"

"Sorry."

"We're an accident!" Quinn hollered. "I'm a truck!" She smacked her tap lights back off and then back on.

"I'm roadkill!" Rachel added and let her face fall still in mock death.

No one reacted.

Quinn smacked her breasts off and on again, eager smile wide.

Their friends continued to stare.

"Because _we_ were an accident! So we're… an accident. Get it?" Rachel piped in.

"Ohhh," Artie gasped.

"You get it?" Quinn gushed.

"No, no I don't," he deadpanned. "Not at all. But who wants to play pong?"

"I'm in!" Puck hollered and the crowd dispersed. Everyone followed them to the kitchen, red solo cups being the goal, and Rachel huffed from her spot next to Quinn. The empty room swallowed them whole and Rachel's floppy ears hung low.

"I thought for sure we'd be a hit," she whined.

"You're the most adorable dead moose I've ever seen and I'm wearing felt mud flaps with naked chicks drawn on them by your father… who loves me. And my breasts light up," she smiled. "Baby, we _are_ a hit."

Rachel stepped forward and kissed her slowly, lovingly and with need.

With a mouth like that, Quinn had no idea how she was supposed to last two months, or if she even could. And later that night, with costumes pulled off and tank tops and jeans leftover, Rachel pulled her towards the bed in Puck's spare room with purpose in her eyes, and she didn't think she'd last one more night.

She trembled freely. Oh, to follow a father's request or to make love to her girlfriend for the first time? Rachel slid her fingers through Quinn's front belt loops and pulled her close as she sat on the edge of the bed.

Oh, god, to follow a father's really unreasonable request or to have hot, hot sex with her girlfriend?

Quinn looked down at the top of Rachel's head hovering by her waist, luscious brown hair flowing over bare arms, and bit her bottom lip. Rachel released her pants' button, pulled her zipper down, and then looked up.

Huge, sweet brown eyes hit Quinn's. Remnants of brown make-up were still smeared over her nose. She smiled wide.

Quinn swallowed the pounding in her heart.

She looked so innocent. She looked so young. She looked so, so pretty.

_Give me a few more months. I love you, Quinn. _

She swiped at her moist eyes and watched Rachel turn back to her pants, fingers hooking on the sides and pulling them to the floor.

Quinn's eyes fluttered shut as Rachel's hands slid down her bare legs and back up, and up, and up underneath her tank, standing as she went and pulling the tank up over blonde hair.

Their lips met and Rachel wrapped her arms around her love, tongues dancing and her fingers finding the clasp with which she was so familiar. Quinn felt those perfect hands find the back of her bra. She felt Rachel's jeans rubbing against her underwear. She felt Rachel's tank pulling over her bare stomach. She was stripped down, bare, and standing before this girl.

_Give me a few more months. Please. _

Dammit.

"Rach, I can't."

"Can't what?" she whispered through kisses to Quinn's shoulder.

God, she wanted, she could; she could so very, very much.

"I can't do this."

Rachel pulled back and found Quinn's cloudy eyes.

"What do you mean, babe?" she asked, not an ounce of fear in her voice, as if Quinn said she didn't want a sandwich and not that she didn't want to have sex. And that made Quinn want to sleep with her even more.

The fact that Rachel didn't doubt them or her made her heart breathe in comfort. She could do this and not hurt Rachel. She could do this for Leroy.

"What would a few more months hurt?" she said.

Rachel stopped.

"You need a few more months?"

No!

"Yes."

"Oh. Okay. Bee, that's fine," she assured.

No, don't let it be fine. She needed Rachel to push it. Push her. Attack her. Power through. Don't take no for an answer. Rape her, for crying out loud. Then it wouldn't be her fault!

"Thanks," Quinn whispered. Rachel leaned in and kissed her. She kissed her slowly, showing her that one day it would happen and would happen right and it didn't matter how long it took to get there; she would be there ready and willing.

"I love you," Rachel whispered and pulled Quinn's tank back on for her.

"I love you more," she whimpered and prayed to the heavens Leroy would make this to up to her, somehow someway. He owed her. Stupid man.

Stupid Serial Sexy-Killer. Daughter-Hogger.

Bug-Expeller.

Father-in-law.

_Father-in-law. _

Her heart broke open with love.

Quinn wrapped Rachel in her arms, took a break to fling back the covers, and then brought her down to the bed before curling up behind her.

"Time for sleep?" Rachel murmured and snuggled in closer. Her jeans pressed firm against Quinn's legs, rough and abrasive.

No. Not good enough. Not good enough at all.

Quinn flung back the covers, walked over to the door to lock it and then crawled back on top of Rachel. Her eyes went wide as Quinn swiftly undid her jeans, pulled them down her legs, and then crawled up further. Quinn grabbed her tank and ripped it over her head. She sat up on her heels and pulled hers off as well.

"Take off your underwear," she demanded, a shell-shocked and confused Rachel staring back at her. "What? Take it off. Bra, too."

"Did I just imagine our previous conversation?" she mumbled and removed her bra before pulling off her underwear. Quinn slid hers off as well, eyes trailing over Rachel's near perfect body in its entirety.

"No."

"Then what's going on?" Rachel started and Quinn crawled back into her spot, naked body sliding tightly into Rachel's.

Small gasps escaped their lips.

Their legs intertwined, hips melded and torsos clenched at each other. She felt every bit of Rachel: her breasts, her hard nipples, dampness between her shivering legs, and heat in the crook of her neck where Quinn settled her head.

_There._

"This. This is what's going on," Quinn sighed and held the gorgeous naked body that housed her favorite heart so very close to her own. "You know when I fell in love with you?"

"When?" she murmured.

"A year ago today."

Rachel pulled her head back to look at Quinn's eyes in the deep darkness of the room. Even then, they shined bright.

"On Halloween?"

"At this exact party. Downstairs in the living room," Quinn admitted. It pained her to think how perfect it could've been to make love tonight.

Rachel thought back over the evening a year ago. She'd arrived to Puck's annual Halloween party as Sister Mary Roberts from "Sister Act". She'd even stayed in character the entire evening. She'd started shy and bashful, and then slowly put on random performances throughout the night until her big finale in the living room. She'd sung "I Will Follow Him" like she was born a proud nun and it all came down to that moment in front of the Pope.

But really, everyone left the room but Quinn. Quinn sat on the couch and watched the entire thing. She watched Rachel perform through extreme fear of torment from the stock-still blonde on the couch. She powered through her finale like a true performer.

And when she finished, those big brown eyes twitched around and Quinn applauded. She stood, walked over to Rachel, hugged her longer than Rachel could remember being hugged and then walked away.

The next day they were friends. The blonde said hey. The blonde sat next to her in classes. The blonde supported her. She was there. She was everywhere.

Six happy months later, Quinn was crouching by her desk and then kissing her in her room and now sliding their naked bodies together.

"You're right," Rachel muttered, all the realizations making sense at once.

"I sat on that couch and it clicked. It all clicked. You were it."

"You fell in love with me at one of my most embarrassing moments."

"It was perfect."

"I was a nun."

"You nailed it," Quinn muttered and Rachel melted.

This girl flat got her. She got her from head to toe.

She gripped tighter and their stomachs, hips, and thighs slid against each other. Quinn's eyes fluttered shut in pleasure and Rachel could've died happy in that moment, nakedness and nothing to feel but Quinn wrapped around her. The blonde placed a hot, wet kiss behind Rachel's ear and willed her hands to stay put. She needed it, she needed Rachel against her.

It was called compromise, Leroy. Deal with it.


	18. Chapter 17 Two Weeks to College August

August - Two Weeks Before College

_It's Really That Easy to Change a Tire._

The wind whipped out around the table cloth as Judy flapped it in the air to spread it clean across the picnic bench. The checkered fabric fluttered flat and she smiled; it was perfect.

Rachel looked out over the parking lot, eyes eager to see her dad's car pull up. He was in charge of dessert. And although they would be fine without it, everything in her hoped he showed. He never missed a dinner party, a brunch date, or a reason to convene over food.

But something in her knew he wouldn't come.

"Rachel, dear, you okay?" Russell asked.

"Just hoping Dad comes."

"I'm sure he will, honey," Judy said and sat an assortment of dishes out over the table. Quinn's eyes danced from dish to dish to dish to Rachel.

The brunette blinked away tears and looked back to the parking lot.

H better freaking show; there was no excuse not to. Sure, he'd lost his husband, but this was his daughter.

"Wanna call him, Rach?" Quinn offered.

She shook her head. At least now she had hope. She preferred hope over hearing her dad say he wasn't coming.

"Mom, how long til we're ready?"

"Five minutes."

"Oh."

"Mhm," she chirped. "Girl, you know I'm an experienced event planner."

"Right," Quinn hummed and met Rachel's eyes. The brunette smiled sweetly and Quinn felt a tad bit warmer. Russell sat down next to Rachel, shoulder-bumped her with a smile, and then pulled off each lid covering the different dishes. They had ham, potato salad, green beans, bread, and more.

It looked delicious.

And Quinn felt almost normal. They sat in the middle of their normal spot in the park, birds chirping and trees swaying.

Judy finished organizing and then sat down with enough room to her right for H. She patted Quinn's leg to her left and jerked her head to the food.

Quinn sat up straight and spread her hands out. Rachel took one, Judy took one, and the others followed suit. They bowed their heads, thanked god for their food and then gave smiles to each other. Rachel gave Quinn a clench before letting her go.

And then Quinn dug in.

"So Rach," Judy started with a smile, "do you have your dorm information worked out for Juilliard? Do you get to customize anything? Do you have a roommate? Is it co-ed? Do you need any more shopping time?"

"One at a time, Mom," Quinn muttered and shoved a forkful of green beans into her mouth.

"We don't get to paint or anything. They're pretty impressive facilities. I think we, um, told you that after we got back from visiting last year."

Quinn's eyes found her plate. Rachel's eyes found the bread.

Judy and Russell's wide eyes found each other.

What the… what was happening?

"What's going on?" he asked.

"Huh?" Quinn muttered.

"Did something happen on that trip?" Judy questioned.

Rachel and Quinn locked eyes and then detached.

"No," they said.

"I would love to paint the room," Rachel added. "But they said no. And I don't know my roommate. I only have her name. Janey Jansen, I think."

"Wow, what a stage name!" Judy guffawed.

"I believe it's her real name," Rachel shrugged. "But yeah."

"She could be a porn star if her music career fails," Quinn giggled and Rachel joined. Silence fell over the table and Quinn watched a squirrel munch on grass to her left.

"How's Hiram, honey?" Russell asked. Rachel's eyes moistened instantly. It was as if one thing triggered the other, no matter what. She felt like a faulty light switch.

Quinn stretched her foot under the table and sidled her ankle up beside Rachel's. The warmth dragged up Rachel's shin, over her knee, through her thigh and to her heart. She looked up to the blonde and gave a sweet smile before taking a steadying breath.

"He's okay."

"Rachel, honey, I know things are, are," Judy started and then stuttered to a stop. She looked to Quinn and then back to Rachel. "Okay, you know what, you two are adults, let's be frank. I know things aren't the same between you and Quinn right now, but we still consider you our daughter. You can talk to us."

Rachel felt the pain course through her. Judy's words should've been comforting, but they only reminded her that she'd gone from four parents to three. She never, ever figured she'd lost Quinn's parents. But she knew she'd lost one and that was still worse.

"Thank you," she mumbled and tossed some macaroni in her mouth. Chewing took longer than normal lately. Her mouth was safer kept busy.

She looked across the table at Quinn's lips.

They used to keep it busy. She wondered if they could keep it busy again.

Quinn looked up and her eyes landed on Rachel's eyes on her lips.

The blonde grinned.

Red handed, Rachel had been caught red handed. She looked back to her macaroni and went for another forkful.

"Is he working?" Russell asked.

"Yes sir, kind of. His office is letting him work from home."

"Is he actually working?" Judy questioned.

"I don't know. He sits in his office a lot. Sometimes I hear him on the phone. Sometimes I, I hear him crying. So maybe he's working half the time?" she shrugged and wiped a spare tear. Russell dragged a sturdy hand over her back and she breathed deeply.

"Have you been over to see him?" Judy asked Quinn and tossed more salad on to her plate. It was quite a joyous thing to see her daughter eating again.

"Um, well…" Quinn started.

"She tried," Rachel finished. "She really tried. I invited her to dinner and my dad wouldn't let her in the house."

"He _what_?" Russell barked.

"Dad, it's okay," Quinn assured.

"It most certainly is not!"

"I messed up. He's still mad. He has a right to be mad."

"He needs to move past it. Clearly you're attempting to make up for it!"

"He will. I know he will. He just needs time," Quinn added. "Don't worry about that, Dad. Okay?"

Russell huffed something fierce. Nobody treated his daughter that way. She was absolutely trying to rectify a really tough situation and this man had the nerve to ban her from his house? Why, he ought to go over there and-

"It's all very delicious, Judy. Thank you," Rachel smiled. "I needed this. I feel really… what's the word… stifled at my house, as if, as if like watching a magic show without the magic. Does that make sense?"

Three sets of eyes stared back at her.

She was_ talking_.

Rachel was talking. Quinn brought her other ankle up to hug the opposite side of her foot. At the feeling, she blinked shyly and Judy finally cleared her throat.

"That makes perfect sense, dear. And thank you. I'm glad you like it. You know, when my dad died, let's see ten years ago, that's how I felt. It's like we took the batteries out of everything in the house."

"Exactly!"

"That period ends. You'll find life in things. Especially all your new things in New York," Judy smiled. "I don't mean this in a bad way, but things at home remind you of your daddy. Things in New York don't have that, that mark on them, you understand?"

"Like being tainted?" Quinn asked.

"Kind of, but not in a bad way," Judy added.

Rachel nodded with a smile.

"I understand what you mean."

"You'll be fine in New York, kiddo," Russell encouraged and tossed more macaroni on her plate. Rachel immediately shoveled a forkful into her mouth.

Judy beamed inside; look at these girls eating and eating. She tossed more ham on Quinn's plate and the blonde grinned back through a smile full of salad.

"Rude, honey."

"Why? Do I have something in my teeth?" she murmured through lettuce. Rachel snorted over her macaroni, clapping a hand over her mouth to keep it inside. Russell shook his head and Judy wanted to cry she was so ecstatic.

She leaned into Quinn, wrapped her arms around her waist and pressed kisses to her cheek. Quinn squirmed away with a grimace.

"I am busy becoming a vegetable, mother," she moaned in faux defiance.

"Does that make me mac and cheese?" Rachel asked.

"Quinn's grandfather, on my side, used to always tell her, 'You are what you eat,' and he thought this was a good idea to get a child to eat her vegetables," he giggled and elbowed Rachel's side. "You see, Quinn was a shrewd little girl. She used this to mock her grandfather."

"Ever the smartass," Rachel muttered. Judy's eyes shot up and when they met Rachel's smile, her reflex to reprimand died and all she could do was smile.

Russell grinned and continued.

"She would say to him, 'Grandpa 'Bray, if I become a vegetable, where will I go to school? Where will I learn stuff? Where will I get a job? No one will hire a stalk of broccoli.'"

Quinn grinned and nodded, still fully in agreement with her childhood self. Rachel shook her head and Judy tossed more ham on her daughter's plate.

"Her grandfather would just huff at the nonsense coming back at him. It worked with Frannie and it worked with all Quinn's older cousins. And here, he was met with this smart little blonde piece of-"

"Intelligence. Piece of intelligence," Quinn chided. "I think is what you were going to say, father."

"She was too much," Russell laughed and turned to Rachel. "I bet you were, too."

"Yeah, Rach, tell us a baby Berry story," Quinn grinned.

"Oh, my, okay. Let's see. I used to have this tape recorder set. It had a beautiful pink microphone," she laughed and rolled her eyes. "I would sit in the corner of the living room and record musicals on it from start to finish as I watched the movie on TV."

"A star at birth," Judy proclaimed.

"Daddy used to sit on the couch and give me pointers. 'Pitchy. Perfect. Louder. More emotion. Feeeel Barbra,' he would say," she grinned and felt tears threatening her eyes. Why could she not control them? Why could she not speak five words about her daddy without them welling up? "He would keep the tapes and let guests listen and we'd play them on holidays," she choked out. "And we um, actually, we listened to a few the day before he died."

Quinn swiped a stray tear and tightened her feet around Rachel's.

"What songs, honey? Which were his lasts?" Judy asked and reached across the table for Rachel's hand. The second her skin met Rachel's, the girl lost it. She brought her hand to her quivering mouth, shook her head, pulled her hand away and stood.

"Sorry," was all she whimpered before walking down the path and away from the picnic area. Quinn swiped her other tears and stood.

"Can I be excused?"

"Of course, honey. Don't even ask," Russell nodded. Quinn thanked him and followed Rachel's path around the trees and down towards the lake. Shade flooded over the walkway and she slowed when she spotted Rachel perched on a rock at the edge of the lake.

She pushed her hands in her pockets, looked over the broken love of her life, and shuffled the rest of the way there. She stepped over the rock and sat down beside Rachel. The brunette swiped her face clean and shook her hands out.

Ducks swam in random circles throughout the lake and Quinn picked up a rock and tossed it. It skipped a few times and then sank.

"I've never been able to do that," Rachel whispered through snotty sniffles. Thoughts of her daddy plagued her and wouldn't cease.

"Not all of us can be awesome," Quinn smirked and Rachel scoffed.

"Rude."

"Come here," she muttered, laced her arm around Rachel's neck and brought the girl's head down to her shoulder. She released a sad exhale and settled into the crook of Quinn's neck, the spot in which she'd spent so many comfortable minutes.

"Gah, I can't go one minute of talking about him without crying. I can't go one minute without thinking about him. I can't go one minute and feel like there isn't a cinderblock collapsing down on my chest."

"It's normal," Quinn whispered and squeezed her tighter. A duck fluttered up to the edge and Rachel nudged some dirt into the water with her foot. The little bird plucked at the different pieces and then swam away.

"We should've brought bread," Rachel muttered.

"Or maybe he shouldn't be so picky."

"One big ball of jokes, aren't you?"

"Would you love me otherwise?" Quinn asked, a hint of seriousness taking over. Rachel picked her head up to meet those eyes, those anchoring bright eyes.

"No," she said and pecked Quinn's cheek. "Thank you."

"It will get easier talking about him, you know. It will. It will all get easier."

"Are you sure?" Rachel asked, needing every ounce of promise Quinn could offer. She needed every ounce of anything Quinn could give her. She needed distractions, she needed comfort, she needed pleasure, and she needed Quinn.

"Yes. I'm very sure."

"Quinn?" she whispered.

"Yes?"

"I need you."

Quinn looked at her. She looked at the desperation, the mess, the shear fear of breaking; it was all written clearly over that beautiful face.

"I'm here, Rach."

"No, I mean like, I need a lot right now. I feel clingy and needy and I'm trying so hard not to be, but I need a lot from you. You're here to make this easier and I should take advantage of that, right?"

"Yeah, I guess," she answered wearily. "What does that mean?"

Rachel turned to her.

"I wanna forget. For five seconds, five minutes, however long. Can you do that? Somehow? Make me forget."

What was she expecting? What did she want Quinn to do?

"You mean, like… kiss you?"

Rachel's eyes darted to those lips. Yes, yes that's exactly what she wanted. She wanted Quinn to kiss her, make love to her, and have dirty sex with her, all of those things just so she didn't have to think about anything else. But she couldn't ask that.

Could she?

She slid off the rock and into the grass below, resting on Quinn's leg from the side.

Not this time, Rachel.

Quinn slid down next to her, laced their fingers together and snuggled in close.

"Hey, wanna sing with me?" Quinn asked. Rachel's eyes shot wide and darted to hers. She hadn't sung in months.

She didn't sing. She didn't sing because every note brought her back to that pink microphone and her daddy teaching her about the thing that would become her everything. She couldn't without crying. She'd tried. She tried nightly in her bedroom but every time she closed her eyes to find her first note, her daddy's face appeared.

"I know. I know," Quinn assured, reading the fear across her face. "But you'll have to start sometime, sometime in the next two weeks. Start here, now, with me."

She squeezed her hands around Rachel's.

"What song?" she sighed.

"I'll start," Quinn said, "and you just come in whenever you want and only if you want."

Rachel nodded and swiped a tear that already pooled. Quinn laced both her hands around Rachel's left, rested it in the brunette's lap, and laid her head on Rachel's shoulder.

"_Think I'm goin' hooome_," Quinn started, soft and slow in Rachel's ear. "_I think I'm getting' looost for a whiiile." _

She squeezed Rachel's hand as the girl's shoulders barely shook. If she looked up, she'd see tears, she'd see tragedy, she'd see broken Rachel, and so she didn't look up. She just continued and hoped against all hope that Rachel's voice would float through the air.

"_Tired of getting stoooned… and thinkin' about you in the night_," she sang through a chuckle. "_Sooo… I'll file away… all my dreams thooough I still believe in everything_."

The shoulder supporting her head shook harder and Quinn snaked her arms around Rachel's waist, clasping at her opposite hip. She buried her forehead in the girl's neck and kept going.

She'd have to join soon, she'd have to.

Right?

"_I wished your love away_," she sang softly. "_Honestly over you_. _Honestly over you. One lie shooort of truue," _she sang louder with a kiss to Rachel's neck. "_Honestly over you," _she followed softly.

Rachel sniffed, losing complete control, wiped her face, and cried harder, no sound forcing itself out in any sense.

"_Lookin' for some hooope_," Quinn continued, praying the girl would break. She'd have to break. "_Polished off the whiskey tonight. You turned a girl to stooone… for looookin' at you straight in the eyes_," she took a breath and held tighter.

Come on, Rachel. Sing with her.

Leroy, wherever you are, send something. Send mojo. Send courage. Send strength. Send a scolding.

Make your daughter sing.

Quinn prayed, latched onto the crying girl harder and continued.

"_So I'll drive away with all my things, though I've a faint belief in everything. I wished your love away. I wiiished yooour looove awaaay."_

Sing, Rachel. Sing.

She only trembled, cried and dug her fingers into Quinn's forearm.

"_Honestly over you_," Quinn sang.

Tears landed on her arm across Rachel's stomach.

"_Honestly over you_," she sang again. And then a miracle happened and the voice she fell in love with years ago came threading out of the lips she loved just the same.

"_One… lie… short… of true_," Rachel sang through sobs, her voice as powerful, solid, and beautiful as it ever had been.

They were the wrong lyrics, but the right lyrics, and perfect in every way. She broke next to Quinn, images of Leroy flooding over her. Her voice shocked her own ears and she trembled until she shook and she cried until she couldn't breathe.

Quinn sat up, moved her hands to Rachel's jaw and turned her face.

"You're okay," Quinn reassured her. "Look at you, you're okay." She ran her hands down Rachel's arms, rubbed them, gripped her hands and then brought hers back up to that quivering jaw. "You're okay."

Rachel's fearful, panicking eyes settled slowly. And then they erupted into tears, tears that wouldn't stop. She reached over and pulled Rachel into her lap, one leg swung over hers.

Rachel clung to the blonde, face in her neck and arms tight around her shoulders. Quinn brought her knees up for support and held tight.

"You're okay. You're okay. You'll _be_ okay."

Quinn knew it. She knew.

Her parents watched from the tree line. They watched Quinn sing to her. They watched Rachel pull out one lyric, probably just for her daddy, they watched her breakdown, and they watched Quinn pull her into her arms, taking all of it from her.

And Hiram stood beside Judy, hand over his heart and tears pouring down his face. They would be okay. They would.

They had to be.


	19. Chapter 18 HS Junior Year November

November - Junior Year

_Take a right. Take a right? Yes, take a right. Right? Right!_

Hiram couldn't move a muscle; Leroy had officially stuffed him full of food, as if _he_ were the actual turkey. His husband sat across the living room with his hands on his stomach, pants' button undone, and a look of despair across his face.

"Lee, you alright?" Hiram asked.

"I didn't eat the entire bird, did I? I don't remember eating the entire bird, but I swear I feel like I ate the entire bird."

"I think _I_ ate half of it, at least," Quinn grumbled from her back on the floor and rolled over. "Oh, no, no," she groaned when her overflowing stomach pressed into the floor and threatened to send her holiday meal back up. She rolled again to her back and let her limbs flop to the ground.

Rachel looked around the room in shock.

"You guys are despicable. And it serves you right for eating beautiful, harmless birds."

"Bird. Singular," Quinn muttered.

"Not from the looks of it," she scoffed.

"Enough ridicule from the vegan, please. It's even more nauseating coming from you," Hiram groaned and stretched his legs out on the sofa. "Quinn, are your parents coming over for dessert later?"

"What are parents? What is dessert? How do I _stand_?" Quinn moaned. Rachel rolled her eyes and shucked a pillow onto the blonde.

It landed with an oomph to Quinn's stomach and she guffawed around it with a wheeze. She snapped to Rachel.

"You're going to regret that when turkey goes all over the carpet."

"That's disgusting."

"Seconded," Leroy muttered. "Why don't you girls go take an afternoon nap before the real crowd arrives for dessert?"

"Four people are not a crowd, Daddy."

"Don't argue with me."

"Yeah, Rachel," Quinn mocked.

"Oh, shut up," she spat and tossed another pillow. It landed hard across the blonde's face but she didn't jolt an inch. Rachel looked down at the four limbs spread out underneath two pillows and tried not to smile.

"He's right, you guys go rest," Hiram added.

"I'm not tired… because I didn't slaughter and garble down pounds of meat," she said.

"Rachel, why can't you just eat it like the rest of us? It would be _so_ much easier to be your father if you were normal," Leroy chuckled.

"Ugh! Maybe I don't want you to be my father then."

"He can be _my_ father," Quinn muttered beneath the pillows.

"There you go, Daddy. Brunette out, blonde in, your wish is granted."

Leroy chuckled, gave Rachel a wink, and then nudged his head to the stairs. She looked over him and he jerked it again. She cocked an eyebrow. He rolled his eyes, looked at Hiram, back to Rachel and then jerked it to the stairs harder.

Oh, he wanted alone time.

That was new.

She stood with a smile and tossed a third pillow onto the blonde.

"Quinn. Haul your heifer self up and let's go to my room," Rachel barked, tossed a fourth pillow on the mound and then started for the stairs.

"Help me," she whined. "Rachel Beeerry, lover of my life, please come help me. I will bow at your bedazzled feet forever."

Rachel stopped and turned with a dramatic eye-roll.

"You know, it'd be much more efficient to ask for help without making fun of me in the process," she groaned and walked back to the pile of pillows.

"I'm being serious," the muffled pillows said. "I _love _your bedazzler."

"Who doesn't love a good bedazzling?" Hiram beamed.

"Oh god," Leroy groaned; he couldn't believe his husband sometimes.

Rachel leaned down and pulled the pillows off her girlfriend, slowly revealing that beautiful blonde face staring back at her. But it was, it was, it was staring back at her something fierce: dark eyes, dirty smirk, and lips biting on each other.

She was _aroused_?

"Quinn," Rachel muttered.

"_Baby_."

"Take it upstairs before I change my mind," Leroy snapped.

"Yes, Daddy," Rachel whimpered, yanked Quinn to her feet through the pillows and hauled her upstairs. The second they were out of sight, Leroy walked over to the couch and plopped down beside his man.

"Pain, such pain," he moaned with a smile and a hand to his chest.

"I know," Hiram agreed and dropped his head on Leroy's strong shoulder. The quiet living room fluttered over them and Hiram couldn't remember the last time he'd felt that content, a hand on his full stomach and pitter-patters in his heart.

"The meal was beautiful," Leroy said.

"I know," he boasted.

The familiar comfort and quiet only solidified who they were to each other and how they lived. Everything breathed simply, everything important mattered, and everything of inconsequence fell by the wayside.

These moments made them who they were: sitting on the couch together, musing over their successfully raised child, their scrumptious meals, and their quiet love.

"We raised a good daughter," Leroy whispered.

"I know that, too."

"We're gonna lose her to Quinn," he muttered and took Hiram's hand between his own.

"We already have."

Leroy sighed, curled further into Hiram, placed a kiss on his neck and then settled himself. His eyelids grew heavy. His chest ached with post-Thanksgiving pains and he coughed out his discomfort.

"You alright?"

"Mhm," he cleared his throat. His heart pounded with pride for his family. "It'll be here before we know it."

"What?"

"Quinn taking her everything and then taking her away," he whispered. The thoughts poured over them for what felt like minutes, comfortable, content, and quiet minutes. "Does that scare you at all?" he asked and waited for Hiram's opinion which he knew would match his own.

It never came.

He brought his head up to take in his husband: eyes shut, lips parted, breathing regulated. He grinned at the peace written across the aged face that still looked nineteen in his eyes. He would always be that geeky freshman at State with too much information, flamboyance and heart.

Leroy turned his head and laid it back down.

Sleep came quickly.

And things weren't going as smoothly upstairs. Quinn begged for the peace Hiram stole and Rachel begged for attention and conversation. The blonde burrowed into the covers and her girlfriend fought to keep her unburied.

"I wanna talk," Rachel whined.

"I wanna sleep," Quinn groaned. Rachel crawled over the mushy mound beneath the covers, pulling back corners here and there, looking for any sign of blonde hair and hazel eyes.

"Where the devil is your face?" she complained and rolled back piles at a time as she crawled in what seemed like circles. Quinn continued shifting below her, begging and pleading for content darkness.

It never came.

Rachel whipped back the right pile of covers and found Quinn's clenched and pained face pressing into the mattress.

"You look pathetic," Rachel chided. "Come on, talk to me. It's Thanksgiving. We should talk about what we're thankful for!"

"You've got to be kidding."

"I never kid."

"You_ used_ to."

"Yes and then you started refusing to sleep with me and now I'm just this strung out piece of sexual energy with nowhere to release my fantasmic explosion of emotion and feelings!"

Quinn craned her face up in shock.

"What the heck is fantasmic?" she asked.

"Fantastic and orgasmic."

"Oh, Christ," Quinn moaned and face planted back into the sheets.

"Did you just say Christ?"

"Mhm, that is how unbelievable you are."

Rachel shook her head and crawled on top of the Quinn-based mound of comforter and sheets. Her cheek landed flat on her girlfriend's.

"Why are you laying your head on my head?" the blonde asked and Rachel felt her jaw move with every word. It tickled her cheek and ear.

"Maybe you're comfy?"

"For real this time."

"I can't be close enough?"

"For real this time."

"You smell nice?"

"Rachel."

"Come onnnn," she whined. "Sit up and let's talk." She turned her head and placed kiss after kiss on that beautiful porcelain cheek. Quinn wanted to squirm away in principle, but those lips and the cuteness overcame.

She turned and captured Rachel's mouth with her own, slowed the kisses, and pulled the brunette snugly on top of her.

"The blankets," she whispered into her mouth. "Pull them over you."

"Are you going to have sex with me finally?" Rachel gasped.

"No," Quinn muttered into her kisses and the brunette froze before smacking the blonde's abs, breaking apart and hauling herself clear to the other side of the bed.

"I don't understand," Rachel huffed.

"There's nothing to understand," she assured, sat up and took in her girlfriend. Mussed brown hair, sad puppy eyes and a pouty frown stared back at her.

God, she killed Quinn. If only she knew how hard the last month had been. If only she knew about Leroy's request. If only she knew how many times Quinn had fallen asleep in her own bed with her hand between her legs after giving herself an orgasm to the image of Rachel.

She wanted her more than anything. Showers turned cold, dreams turned painful, and Rachel's skirts turned plain tortuous.

But there was Leroy. And there was the Green Mile image.

And the fact that he loved her.

"I'm sorry," Quinn whispered and reached across the bed to grab Rachel's hand. The girl let her, lacing their fingers together and begrudgingly smiling at her girlfriend.

"I'm not seriously upset," Rachel assured. "I'm just frustrated."

"Sexually?" Quinn asked with a wriggle of her eyebrows. Rachel blushed furiously and looked away.

"_Yes_, if you must know."

Quinn saw a new avenue spread wide open right in front of her eyes. She grinned madly and crawled over to her girlfriend. She curled sideways into her lap, arms snuggling Rachel's knees against her side, and placed a kiss on her shoulder.

"I must know more," Quinn gushed. "Let's talk about _this_."

"What's there to talk about?" Rachel wondered.

"There is plenty to talk about in regards to your sexual frustrations," Quinn giggled and Rachel gasped.

"What about _your_ frustrations?"

"Who said I was frustrated?" Quinn scoffed.

"I say. I say you are frustrated. I saw your underwear when you woke up this morning."

"_What?"_

"That's right. This is a two-way street. You felt me up last night, stopped abruptly, fell asleep, and then woke up this morning with a very familiar little patch between your legs."

"You little creeper!"

"I'm a creeper because I look at my girlfriend's body when she walks across the room to use the restroom? Please," she scoffed. "If that's the definition of a creeper, then sign me up and put a star by name!"

"You're crazy."

"You love me."

"You're right."

"I know I am," Rachel boasted.

"No, about this morning. I was… you know."

"Wet?"

"Mhm," Quinn purred and kissed her thigh. Rachel wanted those lips a foot south and much sloppier.

"Why?" she asked instead.

"I had a dream about us."

Rachel looked to her open door and then back to the blonde in her lap.

"I'm thinking you should tell me about this dream."

Quinn rolled over in her lap onto her back, left shoulder in between Rachel's breasts and arms still around her legs. Rachel cradled her on reflex. They rested back against the pillows of the headboard and snuggled in tight.

"You think so? Won't it be weird?" Quinn muttered and brought her eyes away from the piercing black ones screaming back at her.

"What would be weird?"

"Saying all the_ words_!" Quinn laughed. "It'd be like phone sex without the phone."

"More like an erotic novel, Quinn. Phone sex requires participation," she said and blushed before she knew it. Quinn's eyes shot to hers, locked on, and the idea burned between them for a good fifteen seconds, bodies on fire and thoughts running wild, before they looked away.

"Erotic novel, it is," Quinn breathed.

"Yeah."

The blonde took a few short breaths, met Rachel's pleading eyes, and then turned back to her own hands in her lap. She picked at her nails and started.

"We were at National's."

"No! Did we win?"

Quinn couldn't believe her.

"_Really_?"

"Sorry. Sorry! It's reflex. I am made of the stage," she called dramatically and then calmed. "So! You were saying. We're at National's, where it doesn't matter if we win or not…" she lead and smiled sheepishly.

"We were rooming together."

"Would never happen now that everyone knows we're together. We probably should have thought about that beforehand."

"You were the one who threw us out of the closet and can I tell my story, please?"

"Dream, not story."

"Rachel, _seriously_?" Quinn huffed. Rachel giggled, tightened her arms around the blonde's waist, ever so close to the breasts she wanted to touch every forever, and intently waited.

"Go ahead."

"You came out of the shower."

"Oh, tell me Dream Rachel teased you. Please tell me Dream Rachel teased you!"

Quinn rolled her eyes.

"No," she purred. "In my dreams I get what I want."

The statement sent shivers down Rachel's legs and she clenched her thighs in response, not realizing Quinn would feel it.

She did. She felt it good. She ran her tongue out over her lips and looked at the brunette. She was panting a bit harder now and raking her eyes over blonde hair, hazel eyes, chiseled cheeks, divoted collar bone and perfect, perfect breasts.

Phone sex could be fun, right?

Breathe, Quinn. Finish the story. Be a good story-teller.

"You walked up to me in your towel. I, um, I stepped into you, you know like you do to me all the time after gym."

"I like feeling your body heat."

"Yeah, like that. I wanted to feel hot Rachel skin after your shower. So I, I," she gulped, "I laced my right arm through the slit in your towel and around your back." Quinn found her own hands all too interesting: her nails, her rings, her knuckles. They were fascinating. "I, I gripped your ass. And you kissed me."

"And," Rachel husked. The noise flashed hot sparklers over Quinn's skin and she looked from her knuckles to her wrists. She could find interesting things on her wrists, too.

"And then I walked you to the bed."

"Are you a top in your dreams?" Rachel breathed into her ear and placed a kissed just below it. It lit the sparklers on fire.

"I _could_ be a top in real life, too. You, um, you don't know."

"Mhm, keep going," Rachel whispered and slid her hand lower around Quinn's back. It landed at the base of the blonde's spine and directly over the ache between her own legs.

Oh, look at that.

"I laid you down. And I, I crawled on top of you."

"You little top."

"What does that even mean?"

"Keep going."

"You pulled my shirt off. You yanked my belt off."

"I'm forceful," she giggled and pressed her hand further down. The back of her knuckles brushed over exactly where she wanted them while caressing Quinn's lower back in the process.

But she needed more.

Could she get away with more?

"You pulled my underwear off," Quinn continued, her voice a few decibels lower. She cleared her throat. "And then I spread open your towel," she husked out just the same.

Rachel giggled at the failed attempt to mask her arousal and massaged her lower back again, knuckles pushing over her sweats just right. She pulled her lip between her teeth and leaned further into Quinn. Maybe she could hide her face. Maybe she could pull this off.

Quinn snuggled right back, pulling Rachel's left arm in tighter and conveniently closer to her breasts. The hand on her lower back felt dreadfully marvelous and the hot breath painting her ear and neck and cheek triggered pools of wetness down below. She clenched her knees together and prayed she'd get through this story.

"I settled down on top of you," Quinn said and thoughts of Halloween rushed through her mind. Skin to skin, heat to heat, and the never-ending feeling of pure need: that night remained top five of her life.

Stupid Leroy.

"Go on," Rachel purred, kissed her neck and massaged her back harder. God, she was good at that. She was so incredibly good at that.

"We kissed."

Rachel waited. Quinn didn't continue.

"I'm hoping this isn't the entire dream," she whispered.

"You kissed me _good_," Quinn murmured.

"Tell me what good is."

"I don't…"

"Come on, Bee. Use your words. Tell me," she moaned and licked her way up Quinn's neck while digging those fingers into her back.

Shit, why had Rachel never massaged her before? Who knew she had such a selflessly talented girlfriend?

Wait, that didn't sound like Rachel. That didn't sound like Rachel at all.

But it was.

And who was Quinn to doubt such a sweet gesture?

"You, you snuck your tongue into my mouth," she continued.

"What'd you do with it?" Rachel purred.

Quinn's eyes fluttered shut and focused on the heat emanating from her lower back and the arm wrapped tightly just below her breasts. She pulled it a bit away from her, in mock effort to loosen the grip, all the while forcing it a bit higher in the process. Rachel's eyes cracked open against Quinn's neck.

She moved her higher.

Quinn just moved her arm higher.

Rachel loosened her grip further and moved it higher herself. Quinn's breath hitched and the muscles in her neck grew taut. She could keep going, Rachel knew. She could keep going. She could do this. She pulled higher and loosened further around Quinn, her arm slowly making its way out from the blonde's side and towards her chest.

"Quinn."

"Mmm?"

"I asked what you did with it."

"With what, baby?" she moaned, focusing on the curling fingers on her back and the creeping hand on her side. Rachel brushed away Quinn's hair with her nose, pushed towards the back of her neck and sucked a few kisses away.

"With my tongue in your mouth," she answered.

Quinn gulped.

"I sucked it."

Rachel's insides swallowed themselves, like she was caving into a black hole. Every inch of her wanted to expand and burst, but she couldn't.

"You're good at that," she said.

"I know."

"Keep going," she murmured between kisses to the back of Quinn's neck. She pushed harder down below with her fingers and the fire churning against her sex flamed hot.

"I didn't know you were such a good masseur," Quinn panted and pushed against the fingers on her back and the lips on her neck.

"I'm good at a lot of things," Rachel cooed, like getting herself off without Quinn knowing. She raised her hips just slightly and bit back the pleasure the extra pressure added.

"You kissed me again and again. And then I slid my hands over your chest and played with them," Quinn continued and watched Rachel's hand slink higher up her chest. It was progressing far too slow.

"With what?"

Gulp.

"Your breasts," Quinn answered through heavy eyes and Rachel's hand landed at its goal. She palmed Quinn and squeezed tightly, rotating suckles to her neck, grasps at her breast and digs into her lower back.

Rachel assaulted her from every angle and it felt as if heaven opened up and rained presents down upon them, rainbow colored presents. Her eyes fluttered shut at the marvels.

"What'd you do next?" she asked and massaged Quinn harder. God, the blonde needed those fingers on her front side.

"I kissed down your stomach," Quinn moaned as Rachel gripped her nipple and pulled. "And ugh, um, I, I…"

"Yes?" Rachel sing-songed behind her ear between kisses and tugs.

"I spread your legs," she moaned and plastered her hand atop Rachel's to keep her there. Delicious fingers were delicious and Quinn wanted more of them.

Wait, what?

"And then?" Rachel asked and slid her hand out from under Quinn's to rest on top of it. She squeezed the blonde against herself and Quinn's eyes pulled open.

"What are you doing?" she panted.

"You worry about your story," Rachel whimpered and picked up the pace of her fingers on Quinn's lower back.

"But I liked that, your hand on me."

"Don't doubt me, love." Rachel ran the tip of her tongue around Quinn's ear and then kissed her lobe.

"I wanna see your face," Quinn whimpered as the brunette gave her hand another squeeze, forcing her girlfriend to feel her own breasts, yet again. Rachel loved that; she loved it so very, very much.

"No. Keep talking," she demanded. Quinn couldn't move. If she moved Rachel would lose her beautiful setup of masturbation disguised as massage.

Quinn huffed and powered forward.

"I was kissing down your front-"

"And you spread my legs."

"And I kept kissing further and," she started and Rachel slowly began dragging their hands south. Quinn's eyes widened, as if her own limb was possessed, and watched them descend. "And, and…"

"And…"

"And, and," she stuttered as their hands landed at the waist of her capri sweats.

"_And_," Rachel demanded, took a leap of faith, and slid their hands into Quinn's pants.

Quinn's head lulled back, eyes pinched shut, and mouth gaped open as her own fingers brushed over her underwear with Rachel's hand right behind hers.

"Nu uh," Rachel murmured, pulled Quinn's hand a few inches backwards and then pushed the blonde's fingers into her underwear. She let them go about their own way at that point and rested her hand over the fabric, feeling Quinn's fingers move, bend, and bulge below it. She licked her lips and picked her pace back up on _massaging_.

"Oh man," Quinn moaned. The joyous massaging feelings were finally between her legs, by her own hand, yet still on her lower back where routine pains plagued her athletic body. Heat pulsed from both sides and she let her head rest back against Rachel's.

"Keep talking," Rachel moaned. "I need to see where this dream left you."

"When did you get so daring?"

"The day I fell for you?"

"Mm, good answer."

She pulled her fingers over herself, between her folds, around her clit. She knew exactly where to touch and in the process, Rachel felt every little thing she did.

She recorded everything in memory: every touch Quinn gave herself, every movement that made her gasp, and every touch that made her whimper. She learned her girlfriend inside and out with every movement under the fabric below as Quinn brought herself closer and closer to the edge.

"Please tell me the rest," she begged.

"I kissed down, all the way down. I finally got to play between your legs, kiss you everywhere I wanted."

"How'd I like that?" Rachel asked, sinking her teeth into Quinn's spine. It shot shockwaves straight beneath the blonde's hand.

She craned into her own touch.

"You loved it. You put your hands in my hair. I even knew what I was doing. You, you kept, mmm, saying, you kept saying my name," she panted.

"_Quinn_?" Rachel husked and sped her own fingers up. She ached from head to toe and needed some sort of release. And if Quinn wouldn't give it to her, she would take it from underneath her… without her knowing.

Oh yes.

"Yeah, like that, but, but louder. Really loud, actually," Quinn chuckled. Rachel dug her fingers into the girl's lower back and listened to the groan that dragged out in response. "I didn't mean it in a bad way."

"Mhm, just keep talking," Rachel chided and rocked her knuckles faster over her clit. Circles, she needed circles.

Mmm_, circles_. There were the circles.

Quinn moaned at the new feelings.

"That feels so good. You should've offered a massage earlier."

She was so, so right.

"Your dream, Bee."

"Sorry," she panted. "I was kissing you down-"

"Eating me out," Rachel corrected and Quinn arched into her own hand. Rachel pushed down harder over her underwear, driving Quinn's hand into herself.

"Oh, god. Yes, eating you out. Like a _freaking_ power lesbian."

"Dream Quinn is mighty egotistical."

"Dream Quinn made you crazy. And, and orgasm. Hard," she groaned and Rachel collapsed into her neck, both their fingers circling around the fiery nubs between their legs.

"Oh God," they both moaned.

Quinn froze.

Wait.

Why was-

"Rachel?"

Rachel froze. Crap.

"Mhm?" she attempted to chirp out rather nonchalantly- and failed.

"You're not just massaging my back, are you?"

"Um, yes?"

She gasped.

"I knew you weren't that selfless! Go with your gut, Quinn, come on! Always go with your gut!"

"Who cares?"

"I care!"

"Shut up and finish," Rachel growled and bit down on the pulsing muscles of Quinn's shoulder.

"Ow!"

"Stop being a complainer and talk dirty to me," Rachel whined.

"I'm not talking dirty to you."

"Quinn. Come on."

"I'm not! I'm telling you my dream," she huffed. Rachel pulled back and craned left to finally meet the blonde's eyes with her own. Cloudy arousal sat behind defiance and Rachel wanted to smack her.

"Are you really going to do this right now?"

"Do what?"

"Cause a stupid argument!"

"Who's arguing?" she taunted.

Rachel groaned and pulled her hand out of Quinn's pants. She pushed the blonde off her lap and crawled for the edge of the bed.

Rage erupted in Quinn. She hit all fours, chased down the brunette, flipped her over and pinned her to the bed. Defiance blazed between them like two flapping lines of electricity, sparking, sparking, and sparking every millimeter they touched.

Rachel glared over her glowing eyes, blushed cheeks, and beady forehead. She was gorgeous when she was angry and Quinn thought the same. She could eat the brunette alive.

And so she did. She collapsed her mouth to Rachel's and kissed her anger over the girl. Their lips pounded together, teeth clashed and tongues sword fought to the death. There was nothing gentle or lovely about it.

"Hand," Quinn growled between hard nips to her lips. "Put your hand back in your pants."

"My hand was never in my pants," Rachel spat back and bit Quinn's chin.

The blonde yelped and yanked back, furious daggers slamming into the brunette's gaze. She reached down, pinched Rachel's hand in her own and thrust it into the brunette's sweats and underwear.

She felt wet folds, soaked really, as she crammed Rachel's fingers over herself and it took every ounce of willpower to pull her own back out instead of taking the brunette for herself.

Rachel's hand let loose with a mind of its own, finally without a barrier, and instantly her slowly churning fire from earlier rocketed back to blazing.

"You too," she moaned, kissed Quinn softer and nudged her head south. Quinn slid her hand into her pants and upon the glorious touch, collapsed her head into Rachel's neck.

"No arguing," Quinn murmured through soft kisses to the skin she loved so dearly. She smelled like, like, like cranberry sauce.

"I really want my hand to be your hand and your hand to be my hand," Rachel rambled through pants and kisses to Quinn's hot cheek. She circled faster over her favorite eager beaver.

Eager beaver. Ha. She giggled.

"What's funny?"

"I just called my clit my eager beaver in my head," she chuckled. Quinn laughed freely into her neck, hot hair splaying across sweat-soaked skin.

"I love you," she said with a smile and brought her hips closer to Rachel's. She could feel the back of the girl's knuckles rising and falling against her own; the feeling quite possibly did more for her than her own fingers.

"Are we gonna, you know…" Rachel whimpered and circled harder.

"Yeah. Yeah," Quinn said and joined her, knuckles smacking and hips rolling together. She placed wet, open mouthed kisses along Rachel's neck and let the sound of the brunette's moaning flood over her.

She always thought Rachel's voice was her favorite sound.

She was wrong.

"Soon?" Rachel cried through pants, the burning and aching between her legs spreading rapidly throughout her arm, chest, neck, and legs. "It's, it's everywhere."

"Me too."

"It's supposed to be everywhere, right?"

Quinn pulled her head up and kept rubbing.

"You've never?"

"I've tried," Rachel blushed, "but you know this house. Every time a woman touches herself or another woman… a man walks in. It's like that stupid saying."

"Every time a bell rings an angel gets its wings?" Quinn laughed through pants, her love for the girl beneath her growing exponentially.

"Mhm, that one."

"You're adorable," she cooed and placed a soft kiss on her lips. "And yes, it's, it's supposed to be everywhere. Do you like it?"

"Look at me," she panted. Quinn did. Rachel was sweating, trembling, moaning, biting her lip, thrusting her hips, and shivering to keep her arm circling as steady as she wanted. "Do I look like I like it?"

Quinn grinned and lowered herself closer. Their knuckles bumped over sweats, ricocheting added pressure over them. It sent waves flooding.

The blonde brought their lips together and circled harder.

"Let it happen," she murmured. She slipped her tongue inside and it was all Rachel needed. It swam from her mouth, down through her torso and erupted between her legs. Her arm shook to keep up with the tingles rocketing through her as her body arched off the bed and slammed directly into Quinn.

It shot lightning to Quinn's clit and sent her crumbling over the edge. She collapsed onto Rachel's mouth, eyes clenched tight, cheeks pulled wide and body shaking into oblivion. Months of pressure and years of love released in that moment, pouring out of her and over Rachel.

Their bodies twitched, contracted and careened with tremors as they came off their high and landed together in a heap of sweat and after-oblivions. Rachel searched her mind for something, anything, to say to the blonde panting on top of her, head to her heart and hips to Rachel's heat.

But she found nothing. No words danced around like normal.

She was an empty void, an empty, joyous, set-free, no longer sexually frustrated void.

And she was ridiculously head over heels in love.

"We're doing that again," she said.

"And again."

"With your hand instead."

"I used my hand."

"On me, stupid," Rachel chided.

"One more month, just one more month."

"Why," she whined.

"For my conscience, just my conscience," Quinn muttered, settled down on Rachel and fell into the bliss of their first post-orgasmic experience.

It wasn't anything like she thought it would be.

And she meant that in, in, in a _fantasmic_ way.


	20. Chapter 19 One Week Before College

One Week Before College

_What State Are We In? I Don't Know, Europe?_

"I want you to make new friends," Hiram whispered and pulled Rachel tighter into his arms. "Meet artists and musicians and boys-"

"Dad."

"I'm kidding," he laughed and released her. "But really, college is an era to have the time of your life. It's the place you figure out who you are and what you want to be."

"I know what I want to be; I've known for years."

"No, I mean, like in the world. Your place in the world. Do you understand?" he asked and shoved another bag into the trunk of Rachel's sedan.

"I think so."

"Find what you want to leave your imprint on. Find out who you want to affect. Find people you want to empower. Just, just live it up all the way to the glass ceiling and then explode through it."

Rachel stared at her father undulating and beaming with emotion.

She missed it. She missed flamboyant Dad and his big ideas and grand speeches and even grander emotions. He was larger than life, until his life was taken from him.

But there he stood… a few feet away and flowing over the brim.

"Will you be okay?" she asked and his excitement dwindled.

Embarrassed eyes twitched away and he went back to her luggage. His daughter shouldn't be questioning him about his well-being. She shouldn't be worried about his state-of-mind. He should be supporting her, not the other way around.

"I'm fine, sweetheart. Look at me," he smiled and presented himself. "I'm showered, my clothes are pressed, my new hairstyle is positively magnificent, if I do say so myself."

"It's quite marvelous, sir," she boasted.

"I know hair."

Rachel's insides warmed at the familiarity of their usual banter.

Day by day since the picnic it slowly returned. Each day he came to her room and they talked, specifically about Daddy. They shared stories to make it easier to speak of him. They shared fears. They shared heartbreaks. They shared tears. Each day, the weight of her cinderblock felt just a tab bit less suffocating.

It still ripped the breath from her regularly, but at least she could walk down the street, see a dachshund, Daddy's favorite dog, and not break down to her knees bawling.

That was progress, if only a little bit. She walked over to him, wrapped her arms around his waist and held tight.

"I'm proud of you, Dad."

His tears welled and he slithered his weak arms around her tiny shoulders. He could hold her forever, never let her go, never let her see the world, keep her all to himself, and they would be happy.

But what kind of father would that make him?

He had to set her free. He had to let her go, today, in twenty minutes, _now_. His chin quivered and he squeezed tighter, as tight as he could. She could stay, right? She could stay and take care of him? They could be partners in crime, best friends for life. He needed a new best friend.

"Dad, I can't breathe."

"Sorry!" he gasped and let her free. "Sorry." He swiped away his tears and plopped his hands on his hips to take in the scene.

Luggage loaded, check.

Clothes packed and hung, check.

Quinn's stuff boarded, check.

Two boxes labeled "Music-Don't touch!" check.

Oh, wait! He gasped and threw his hands up.

With a flat one-eighty, he jogged back inside without a word. Rachel laughed, perched on her bumper and crossed her ankles.

Today was the day. She would leave Lima forever. She would become a New York City resident. She would become a music student. She would start auditioning for real shows.

Oh, geez.

She had to audition for real shows.

She took a deep steadying breath just as the Fabray Mobile pulled up to the curb. Quinn leaned across the cab, Judy and Russell, and smacked the horn twice happily, before hopping out with her hands in the air and a grin plastered across her face.

"We are college bound, my tiny creature!"

"You're so sweet," Rachel grunted from her perch. Russell crawled out of the monster truck and helped Judy down. They looked about as happy as her dad. Tears, they needed to contain their tears or Rachel would break.

"You all packed up? Where's H?"

"Inside."

"Doing what?"

"I don't know. He was standing here and then he was sprinting off, jazz hands a flying."

Quinn giggled, the overwhelming urge to lean down and kiss her rushing over her. She wanted to lean down and kiss, kiss, and kiss her, forever and ever.

Her parents joined their huddle by the car and Rachel looked over them. Russell channeled a gargoyle and Judy's eyes bulged blood red and swollen.

"Ra-Rachel," she choked out.

"Awe, Judy. You don't look so good."

"She's fine," Russell barked, steeled to the bone. Rachel stifled back a giggle and looked to Quinn. She raised her eyebrows in weary wonderment and shrugged. What was there to do?

"I found it! I found it!" Hiram wailed and bounced down the walk to the driveway. "Oh, hey Judy! Russ. How are- Oh, not so good, huh?" he grimaced.

Judy's chin quivered and she shook her head with a hand over her mouth. Russell's shoulders hardened further and he placed a comforting hand on the small of her back.

"We're fine."

"Clearly," Hiram chuckled and turned to his expecting daughter. "Here," he called out and thrust a very tiny, very ragged little stuffed rhino into her hands. She took it, eyebrows arched and mouth open.

"Um, Dad, what is this?" she asked, rolling it over in her hands. Short, grey, and mussed fur rubbed over her fingers. Small pink stains covered it and its little rhino horn jutted out strong.

"It's your Rhiny!" he gasped, flabbergasted at the question.

Quinn choked back a laugh and watched Rachel investigate the thing.

"What is my rhiny?"

"Rachel Berry! Your Rhiny! You don't remember her?"

"It's a her?"

He gasped again and ripped it out her hands to hold it upright presentably.

"Of course she's a her! You would take her everywhere as a child! We didn't go the grocery store without her. She went to dance class. She went to music lessons. She slept in your bed!"

Quinn failed at stifling her giggles. Rachel turned and shot daggers into her before turning back to her dad.

"Dad, I don't remember her."

"What, but, huh, you have to! She was your hero!"

"How?" Rachel questioned.

"You used to say, 'If Rhiny can make it with a nose like that, I can, too!' And then, then you'd plow her through stuff! Fruit, dishes, Barbies…"

That's all it took; Quinn lost it.

Her belly erupted with laughter and the noise rang heavenly over their ears. Rachel smacked her side and even weepy, weary Judy broke out a smile.

"That is freaking hysterical, oh my God," she cried.

"Quinn."

"Gosh," she corrected with wide eyes. "Oh my gosh."

"Better."

"That's right, Russell. You make her take those morals to New York," Hiram boasted. "Make her take them and make her keep this one in line," he called and bumped Rachel. Quinn giggled.

"I think she has _Rhiny_ for that, though."

"Shut it," Rachel snapped with warning. Quinn held up both hands in defense. The brunette softened and Quinn smiled before nudging the air with her nose a few times. Rachel guffawed and stormed towards the driver's door.

"You can walk!"

Quinn released another laughed and headed towards the passenger's door before a hand reached out to grip her wrist. She whipped back around, expecting a tearful mother, but found Hiram instead.

Posture quiet and gaze averted, he held out a wooden frame.

"I thought you might want to take this for your dorm. It's yours, after all."

Rachel craned her neck back to see what it was and caught tears running down the blonde's face. Her hand fell from the driver's door and her feet took her back to the bumper and inches from Quinn. The blonde stood frozen, frame in her hands and tears falling to the glass.

Rachel looked at Russell and Judy; both had broken. Judy wept and Russell hovered like a sturdy tree, a sturdy and silently crying tree. She turned back to Quinn and looked down.

It was a framed photo of them and their parents, all of their parents. And there was Leroy on the right, holding Quinn in his arms with her limbs spread wide and mouth gaped open in excitement. It was from last June at the lake.

"What, what is this?" Quinn whimpered and brought red eyes up to Hiram's.

"It's your Christmas present… from last year… from Lee," he smiled. "He never got a chance to give it to you, and I never did either. I'm sorry."

Tears fell freely. She nodded through them and stepped into Hiram, wrapping thankful and apologetic arms around him. He cradled her, kissed her head and felt tears soaking through his shoulder.

"I'm sorry," she cried.

Judy swiped her tears away and Russell turned to take in the lawn. He really liked landscape architecture, a lot.

"All is forgiven. Let's skype, okay? We can talk it all out," he assured, squeezed her once more and then broke free. Quinn looked to the picture again and then to her mom. Judy smiled sweetly.

It was time.

And everyone broke again.

* * *

><p>Buckets of tears, arguments over music, and seven front-seat driver nitpicks later, they were only an hour closer to New York City.<p>

"It's only been _fifty-five_ minutes?" Rachel huffed.

"Problem?"

"It's gonna take forever!"

"You used to like being in a car with me. You used to enjoy my singing."

"I _do_ enjoy your singing."

"You're not acting like you enjoy my singing."

"Sure I am."

"No you're not."

"Quinn."

"Rachel."

"Stop being a child."

"I want to kiss you."

"You _are_ being- huh, wait, what?"

"One point, Bee," Quinn beamed.

* * *

><p>"Why doesn't Youngstown look young?" Quinn asked.<p>

"It's a name, not a description," Rachel muttered and leaned back on the railing overlooking historic downtown. Wind whipped over them on the bridge and the brunette brought her eyes up to the blonde. She stood a few feet away, hands on the railing and gaze out over the town. Her blonde hair danced in the breeze and her curious eyes found interest in everything.

Quinn felt it.

And Rachel couldn't remember the last time she just looked at her. She used to look at her all the time. She used to ache when her eyes wandered away from the girl, as if leaving their home.

Eight more hours and they would be in the big city if they could make it.

How would it be?

They would be fifty blocks away from each other, but that seemed so close as much as it seemed so far. And what were they? They hadn't kissed since Quinn's bed when Rachel pecked those lips in thank you.

But she saw Quinn looking at her. She felt the flirting.

The love burned.

All she wanted was to pull the blonde into her arms, but all she could think about was the image of Quinn's back as she walked away that November afternoon, tears streaming down her own face and blonde hair leaving a wake of unbearable pain sloshing over her.

But god she was beautiful.

She was beautiful and… and…

Rachel sighed, tore her eyes away, and looked at the rotted wooden planks beneath her.

And finally… Quinn exhaled.

* * *

><p>"<em>Please don't worry 'cause I'm alright, see I'm playing here at the bar tooniiiiight. Well, this time I'm gonna make our dreeeams come truuue. Well I love you more than anything in the woooorld. Looove, your baby girl<em>," Rachel drawled blissfully at the top of her lungs over the stereo, wind in her hair and a song in her heart.

Quinn hated country music.

But she _loved_ that voice.

Bye bye, Brookville.

* * *

><p>"How much paper is too much paper?" Rachel called out through the stall. After her sixth layer of protective tissue, she began doubting what a healthy level of OCD may be.<p>

"What layer are you on?" Quinn said, already settled and peeing.

"Sixth?"

"Oh god," she muttered.

"_Gosh_."

"Thanks, _Dad_."

"No problem, daughter!" Rachel chirped and sat down on the mountain of paper.

"Okay, let's stop there before it goes too far and Chris Hansen jumps through the door."

Rachel snorted with laughter and finally relieved herself with a dramatic sigh. It felt amazingly, amazingly good.

"Need to pee, much?" Quinn laughed.

"I need a lot of things," Rachel muttered.

Quinn's mind dropped to gutter and rolled into the mud. She licked her lips and looked at the grungy pale yellow stall wall to her right. The girl was so close, yet so far away. She wanted to bust through and take her against the wall- _after_ she finished peeing, of course. After she finished peeing!

_Dammit._

Mental image ruined.

She scoffed, finished, flushed and crossed the bathroom to wash her hands, eyes on Rachel's door through the mirror. She could see slivers of Rachel through the slit in the stall. She was standing, turned backwards and struggling to pull her skinny jeans up her legs.

Red thong and tight, fleshy ass came into view and Quinn's jaw gaped.

Oh… my… _god_.

Her eyes bulged.

And like Bambi fresh out of the womb, her legs caved in, her knees hit the floor, her head slammed into the porcelain sink and her back hit the ground.

"Mother fuuucker," she groaned and reached for every aching inch.

The stall door swung open at the commotion and Rachel gaped.

"What the- What happened?" she cried out and sank to her knees beside the blonde. "Did you slip? Is there water? Oh my god- your head! You're bleeding."

Rachel shot to her feet, grabbed a wad of paper towels, wet them and sank back to the floor to put pressure on the small split by Quinn's hairline. Every utterance out the blonde's mouth confused Rachel. _Torture, ridiculous, should be illegal, stupid sinks_, and more poured out through moans and Rachel shook her head.

"You okay?"

"Everything, literally everything, hurts," Quinn groaned and finally pulled open her eyes.

Besides the bathroom feeling loads brighter than it did upon arrival, everything seemed normal and Rachel was there, right there. Her fingers dragged softly through Quinn's hair and her knees pressed firmly into her thigh.

Quinn let her hand pull up to rest on Rachel's leg.

Those endless brown eyes dropped to it.

Quinn squeezed. And she pulled. And she caressed. She dragged her nails over denim. She begged through her fingers and Rachel panted in response.

"I think you're fine," she muttered.

"I could be more fine."

"Finer."

"Whatever, come here," Quinn growled, laced a hand around Rachel's neck and pulled her close.

"No," she griped, yanked back, crawled to her feet and faced the sinks. She took a breath and tossed the bloody napkins in the trash.

Quinn watched from the floor in disbelief.

"I'll be in the car. Are you coming?" Rachel muttered with eyes on anything but Quinn.

"I _could_ be," she growled.

"Then stay. Go ahead and finish yourself if you _could_ be. Join me when you're done," she barked and left.

Quinn couldn't- Rachel said- what the- she just-

_What_ was that?

* * *

><p>Three hours passed without a word.<p>

Dubois came and went. And now Bloomburg came and would go.

She looked across the console to Rachel behind the wheel. Her knuckles burned white. Her forearm muscles danced with the low music. Her jaw clenched. Her eyebrows narrowed deeply.

Quinn turned forward.

Three more hours 'til New York.

"We don't need to stop. There's no reason to have to stay overnight, Rach," she assured as they walked into the motel lobby.

"It's 8pm. I'm tired of driving."

"We're only an hour away. I said I would drive."

"You can't drive."

"I can too!"

"Do you not remember our first date?"

Quinn gasped and Rachel ignored the response. She walked up to the counter. A young, bed-headed boy took his feet off the desk and sat up to greet them.

"Can I help you?" he smiled wide.

Rachel figured it was once in a blue moon that two young, attractive females wandered into his hotel so late in the evening.

"Maybe you can," she grinned madly and Quinn pulled her annoyed focus to the girl. Really, Rachel? Really? She rolled her eyes and looked away.

"Need a room for the night?" he chirped.

"With two beds," Rachel said.

Quinn shook her head at the ridiculousness. Did Rachel think she couldn't control herself? She couldn't drive a car with the girl next to her? She couldn't sleep in the same bed as her without pouncing?

That's how it was going to be?

Whatever.

She slapped three twenties on the counter.

"My half. I'll be outside," she snapped and left the lobby. The lad watched her storm out and then pulled back to Rachel with wide eyes.

"You girls have a fight?"

"Always."

"Friends for a while?" he asked with a smile.

Rachel failed to find a response and dropped her half on the counter next to Quinn's. What was happening to them?

Quinn sat on her bed, _her_ bed, resting back against the clackety headboard, and surfed through the channels as Rachel dug through laundry basket full of clothes for her dorm.

She aha'd when she found a pair of pajama pants and then slipped into the bathroom to change.

Quinn thought back over the last time she and Rachel shared a hotel room; it was at National's with Brittany and Santana. They'd shared a bed. They'd discreetly made love under the covers in the bed with their friends six feet away.

They'd giggled, panted, and smothered each other's noises.

It was the rush of a lifetime and one of the best moments in memory.

She looked over the hideous floral print bedspread and then back to the bathroom door. She heard the toilet flush, a few sniffles, a cough to clear her throat, and then Rachel came back out, eyes darting quickly to Quinn's and then away.

"I'm going to sleep," she uttered, tossed her other clothes on the laundry basket and crawled into the opposite bed.

Quinn should force them to talk. She should figure out what happened, where she went wrong, what she could do better. She should say a lot. She should do a lot.

Rachel burrowed under the covers and rolled to her side, back to Quinn.

"Just turn the light off when you go to sleep," she muttered again.

Still Quinn said nothing.

"And make sure the door is locked," Rachel added and cursed herself. Why could she not stop talking? Why couldn't she sulk the right way? Why couldn't she be up in a tizzy like she felt she should?

Quinn looked over the girl's back, wanting nothing more than to walk over, crawl in behind, and spoon it.

It was her spot, after all. Her front was made to snuggle Rachel's back.

She looked back to the television.

Snakes were on a plane.

And Samuel L. Jackson was shouting about said snakes.

She sighed, clicked the light off, and let the snakes put her to sleep.

* * *

><p>"Baby girl, when you do 'My Man', it needs to come from your soul. Really deep inside, do you understand?" Leroy encouraged.<p>

Wide eyed and eager four year old Rachel soaked up the advice, nodding frantically, and turned back to her bright pink microphone.

She reached a tiny finger down, clicked the orange Record button, nodded to her daddy to hit play and then focused awe-inspired eyes on the screen.

"Miss Brabra!" she shouted with a finger thrust at the screen when Barbra appeared. Leroy nodded with a grin.

"Focus, baby. Listen to her voice. And then rip it out."

"Wip it out," she repeated to herself and watched every movement, nuance, and detail of her favorite lady on screen.

She could do it. She could be like Brabra.

Her idol sang.

And then she sang.

And Leroy cried.

And then Rachel was crying. Crying and gripping a pillow and- where was she? Where-

"Daddy?" she called out through tears. She tossed around, glancing for any sort of clue as to where the hell she was. "Daddy?" she shrieked. Warm arms enveloped her, pushed her back into the bed and swallowed her whole.

"Shhh," Quinn whispered. "Shh."

She cradled Rachel, settled her back into the bed and brought her body as close to the girl's as she could. She reached down, grabbed the comforter and threw it over them.

She snuck her face into the crook of Rachel's neck, tightened her hold around the girl's stomach and slipped her other arm under Rachel's head to cradle it against her.

"It's okay," she muttered and realization hit the brunette, flooding her face with tears. It ripped Quinn open as Rachel broke in her arms.

"I'm sorry," she cried through tears and attempted wiping them dry but they wouldn't stop. They just wouldn't stop. The pain wouldn't stop. Visions of her daddy wouldn't stop.

"Don't apologize. I'm right here. You can go back to sleep. I'm right here."

"I'm sorry for earlier, too. It's just so confusing."

Quinn hugged her tighter.

Rachel's back relaxed into her front, just as it always should be.

"I am, too," Quinn whispered and placed a light kiss behind her ear.

"I love you."

Quinn stilled at the remark.

And Rachel fell fast asleep.

* * *

><p>They pulled up to Columbia University dorms ten hours later. It loomed through the windshield and seemed every bit as intimidating. Older students with matching blue shirts stormed their car. One with a whistle opened Quinn's door and stretched out a friendly hand.<p>

"I'm Lindsey! We're your move-in team!"

Everything out of her mouth chirped with enthusiasm. Quinn looked back to Rachel and knew her own face looked as fearful as the girl's in front of her. She gulped and turned back to Lindsey before stepping out of the car.

"Name?"

"Um, Quinn Fabray."

"Check!" she chirped and turned to her minions. "Room 414!"

"414," Quinn muttered.

Rachel made a mental note.

Lindsey was tall, blonde and bubbly with a bandana around her forehead and a shirt that said, "We Move It, You Live It! Columbia Student Union."

She wondered if Juilliard would have a move-in team.

"She a student as well? What's your name?" Lindsey ducked down and shouted into the car at Rachel.

"No, no, she's going to Juilliard. It's just me," Quinn added. "Everything is marked with a Q if it's mine. Don't take anything else."

"Q items only!" Lindsey hollered at the team of boys and girls rustling through Rachel's car. Rachel whipped over her shoulder and watched for any R items making their way out of the vehicle.

The car was empty of Quinn's belongings in four seconds flat.

Quinn watched the students haul her stuff towards the building looming behind her. Lindsey stepped in view with a smile.

"Here," she said and thrust a packet into Quinn's hands. "Walk straight down the sidewalk, through the corridor and you'll walk directly into registration. Everything for you is there! Now tell your friend to get on, we need the lane to keep moving."

"Oh," Quinn muttered, overwhelmed and out-of-sorts.

"And Quinn," Lindsey stopped and turned.

"Yeah?" Quinn asked through bright sunlight beaming into her eyes.

"Welcome to college. You'll love it here," Lindsey smiled and stormed off to the next car, whistle blaring and minions following.

Quinn gulped and leaned down through her door.

The image knocked her over; tears filled Rachel's eyes and she wasn't the least bit expecting it.

"I guess, um, I guess this is goodbye for now?" Quinn whispered.

Those tears poured heavier and Rachel nodded bravely with a smile.

"Lunch tomorrow?" Quinn smiled and Rachel nodded again, tears dripping onto her shirt below.

She sniffled, furiously wiped at her eyes and then shook her head in embarrassment at her failed attempt and failed control.

"It'll be okay," Quinn whispered.

Rachel nodded again, tears still flowing.

"Say something," Quinn pleaded.

"Come here for a minute," Rachel choked out and wiggled her finger at Quinn to get in the car. She glanced back at Lindsey busy with the next arrival and sat down in the car.

Without hesitation, Rachel leaned across the partition, snaked a hand around Quinn's neck and brought their lips together. She pressed hard, needing to feel it in her toes and needing Quinn to remember it. She needed to remember it tonight, tomorrow, forever.

She pulled her lips over the blonde's, caressing them, loving them, and then turned just enough to slip her tongue inside. Ever so brief, but just enough, Quinn melted in her seat. She leaned into Rachel, kissed her harder, ran fingers through her hair, and cried into her cheeks.

They loved on each other's mouths. They explored like it was the first time and memorized like it was the last time.

And when air failed them, Rachel finally drew her lips away.

Their foreheads connected, eyes met, and hearts leapt across the console. Quinn would leave hers there and walk away with Rachel's and it was exactly as she wanted.

"Lunch," Rachel panted. "Lunch tomorrow sounds nice."


	21. Chapter 20 HS Junior Year December

Hi helllllo my peoples. This chapter is huge. And I hope you enjoy it! I adore Christmas. And I believe this chapter displays that. XO Dylan

* * *

><p>December - Junior Year<p>

_I've Never Been Here Before. Me Either, But Isn't It Beautiful?_

To Quinn, Christmas meant her mom on the piano, Frannie on her cell phone, and her dad slaving over a turkey. Christmas meant… chaos. For whatever reason, the Fabray household never failed to be a nucleus of energy all the way from Thanksgiving to New Year's Eve.

It exhausted her.

Frannie couldn't text fast enough. Her mom never ran out of carols to badly pound out on the piano. And her dad always, always, always used the electric knife to carve the turkey.

Bzzz. Bzzz. Bzzzzzz.

"That's a good juicy one. Quinn come taste!"

Bzzz. Bzzz. Bzzzzzz.

"_We wish you a Merry Christmas. We wish you, ugh, oops, a, a Merry Christmas!"_

Bzzz. Bzzz. Bzzzzzz.

Click click click. Click click click. Click click click.

"Haha! You'll never believe what Matt just sent me."

"What?" Quinn would ask her.

"You wouldn't get it."

Click click click. Click click click. Click click click.

Bzzz. Bzzz. Bzzzzzz.

Oh with the noises! It drove her endlessly insane. She needed other noises. She needed slightly less annoying noises, like Rachel!

She picked up her phone. Maybe Rachel could say something _Frannie_ wouldn't get and then Quinn could flaunt it.

Oo, how _thrilling_. Who was she kidding? Frannie didn't get half the stuff Rachel said anyway. Ugh, was it seven yet and time to go to the Berrymen's? She looked at her watch: 11:03am. Christ Almighty, this Christmas sucked.

And then the doorbell rang.

She shot to her feet, praying the sound would bring refuge and not more annoyances. She needed refuge, please be refuge. She gallivanted to the door, swung it open with a heave and a hope, and landed on-

"Fred!"

She leapt three feet into his strong arms. He gasped out a happy chuckle and hugged tightly, her feet dangling above the ground. "I am so happy to see you! How was your Christmas? How's your son? Are you working? No wait, it's Christmas! You want to come in? You cold? We have-"

"Miss Fabraaaay," he drawled and plopped her down on the snowy front stoop. She bounced between her socked feet as her toes froze by the second. "Thank you for the offers, but I'm on a delivery."

"On Christmas? Fred! This is when you tell your boss no."

"If your boss was one Miss Berry, would you tell her no?"

Quinn lit up. Rachel had a delivery for her!

On Christmas! By Fred! Her favorite person!

"What is it? What is it?" she begged.

He beamed and thrust a note out to her.

Her excitement fell. A _note?_ That's it? Rachel Berry's grand Christmas delivery was a note? And not even on stationary?

"Please tell me something is going to jump out of it," Quinn muttered, eyes narrowed and not impressed.

"I don't ask questions."

"What's it say?"

"Nor do I read my client's mail."

"Fred."

"Miss Fabray," he smiled and nudged the note closer. She rolled her eyes, tugged it out of his hand and folded it open.

_Merry Christmas, gorgeous. You're having sex with me tonight._

_(Whether you like it or not.) _

_(I promise you'll like it.) _

_(I googled stuff.)_

_(Tell Fred thanks!)_

_XO_

Quinn's head flushed with blood. She could faint, like seriously faint.

Her knees jello'd out from under her and she sat down in the snow.

"What's it say?"

"She says we're having sex tonight," Quinn muttered, eyes phased and wandering over the bright snow blanketing their neighborhood.

Fred snapped hands to his ears and averted his gaze.

"Miss _Fabray_," he chided.

"What?" she scoffed at him.

"I don't need to hear that. So, I'm going to go. But here, I got you and Miss Berry a present," he said and held out a small white box.

He bought them a present?

The wetness soaked through her socks and she really, honestly, couldn't tell if she still had toes down there. Her ass fell numb as well and that, _that_ was interesting. She smiled and delicately took the box from his hands, his pearly eyes shining over her, and opened it. A bright pink Christmas ball ornament gleamed colors over her face.

"Take it out," he said.

She reached in, grabbed the hook, and pulled it from the tissue. Sunlight beamed through it, illuminating every piece of sparkling glitter.

"It's beautiful, and, and _bedazzled_," she cooed as she spun it around. "Rachel will love it, Fred!" And as it turned, an inscription rotated into view. "Mrs. & Mrs. Berry-Fabray's First Christmas. Love, Fred," she read.

"Alphabetical, of course, ma'am. When you two get married, you promise you'll hang it on your first tree?" Quinn's tears pooled and she choked back a happy cry to release a smile and give him a nod.

"You think we'll get married?" she asked, attempting to hide the hope laced through her words.

"I do so hope."

"I'd have to be the one to propose, wouldn't I?" she huffed.

"I think you'd do a fine job, ma'am," he smiled. She couldn't contain the childlike euphoria threading over her features. Her cheeks blushed, her eyes glowed, and her lips curled into extreme happiness.

"I promise, Fred. I mean, to hang it on our first tree. But you have to promise something in return."

"What's that?"

"To come see our first tree."

He looked down at the kind little blonde standing before him, clothes ruffled, hair a mess, but face a glowin'. He knew he wouldn't be around by then as much as the sight of their first tree, home, and marriage would please him. His time was coming; it was inevitable.

But she didn't need to know that.

"I'll be there," he whispered and watched Quinn's smile beam over the bright pink ornament in her hand. There it was: happiness. "Good luck tonight. Use, use protection?" he giggled out with a clueless shrug, gave a nod and descended the steps. "And Merry Christmas," he hollered over his shoulder with a wave as snow drizzled around him.

He was a sight for sore eyes, any way you dreamt it.

"Merry Christmas, Fred," she sighed.

Maybe this Christmas was shaping up to be something special after all.

She unfolded the paper in her hands again.

_You're having sex with me tonight._

Crap. She needed to shower. She needed to shower, shave, and grow some knowledge, courage, and rico suave moves, like _now_.

And Google. Google! She needed to print out the Google and then scan it into her brain, because tonight, tonight she'd lose her virginity to Rachel Berry.

Christ, what was the world coming to?

* * *

><p>Rachel's voice boomed from the other side of her door as Quinn stopped her descent down their hallway. She smiled and pressed her ear to the wood. The bing bongs, jingles and overall joy pouring through it sent butterflies loose in her stomach. Suddenly her hands shook, her mouth dried, and her thoughts failed to form any sort of progression of thought.<p>

She rotated, leaned back against the wall for support and slid down it. Her pained butt hit the plush carpet with a thud and she cursed herself for thinking it wise to sit on snow earlier- in only pajama pants.

She crossed her ankles and threw her head back against the wall.

Tonight was the night.

What was she _doing_?

She sighed, brought her knees up, and dropped her head to them. Rachel's vibrant, bubbly voice danced over her ears through the door and all she wanted was to go in there and show the girl how much she loved her, but what if…

What if it was awful?

What if she couldn't find things?

_What if_ she threw up when she fully… you know?

"Quinn, hun, what are you doing out here?"

She jerked her head up and drew a complete, utter blank for any sort of non-sexual answer to Leroy's question. And then he read her like a book, eyes twitching between her face and Rachel's door, music still flooding from the other side.

She opened her mouth to say something- anything- but nothing came out. It smacked close with a pop. He dropped his voice, knelt at her feet and bore into her eyes.

"Did you have a fight?"

She shook her head.

"Did you have a bad Christmas at your house?"

She shook her head.

"Are you feeling sick?"

She shook her head.

"Are you still in love with Rachel?"

She shook- she nodded fiercely.

"Good. Then I'm going downstairs because you're confusing me. And if all you're doing is sitting in our hallway, well, frankly, it bores me," he said and stood, hands on hips. "Anything else you'd like to add before I find something more interesting to do?"

She gulped. Did he know? Was he testing her?

Could he give her advice?

Who was she kidding, this was Serial Killer Leroy; he would murder her in her sleep if he knew she would be deflowering his daughter later this evening in the darkness of the cruel, cruel, cruel, devious night.

Oh god.

What was she doing?

"I'm fine."

"I didn't ask if you were fine. I asked if there was anything else you'd like to add before I walk away and leave you just… sitting… in my hallway like some emo kid," he repeated and arched an eyebrow.

"_You_ know the word_ emo_?" she giggled.

He shook his head in disbelief.

"I'm walking away from you now."

"Merry Christmas, Leroy," she shouted to the back of his head as he descended the stairs. He threw up a dismissive wave and she chuckled. Merry Christmas indeed, Leroy.

She sighed and dropped her head back to her knees.

Ugh, now she had to stand up and go into the room. She had to. What if Rachel had plans? What if it was now? What if Rachel was laid up on her bed, naked, and spread, eager, and oh my-

"Quinn?"

"Ah!"

She hit the floor.

"Ah!"

Rachel hit the wall.

"Jesus!"

Quinn gasped into the carpet.

"Quinn!"

Rachel clutched at her heart.

"Holy hell,_ Rachel!"_

"Oh my god, my heart," she gasped, holding her chest and leaning into the doorframe. "What are you _doing_ out here?"

"Why did you _scare_ me?"

"I just said your name!"

"Like a little freaking leprechaun sneakin' up on people," Quinn muttered and crawled to her feet. She stretched her arms out, brushed out her shirt and finally looked up, up and straight into searing eyes.

Uh, what had she said?

"What?"

"Little freaking leprechaun?" Rachel growled, crossed her arms, and burned holes in the blonde. Quinn gulped and looked for any possible explanation. Of course, there was none.

"I'm sorry?"

"You're making it very difficult to want to have sex with you tonight."

Quinn whipped to the stairs in search of any parents.

"Rachel! Shhh."

"What are you,_ five_?" she snapped, gripped Quinn's forearm and yanked her into the bedroom. "Get in here and hush."

Awareness rolled over Quinn the moment the door shut behind them.

Was it now? Was it time?

Rachel walked past her and stopped the music.

It was now. It was time.

"Movie?"

Or it was movie time. Was it movie time? God, why could she not control her thoughts and, and her fingers. Why were her fingers trembling?

She shoved them into her jeans pockets and brought her eyes to Rachel. The brunette looked just the same as a minute ago: no worries, no thoughts, no hints across her face, no smirks, no eyebrow arcs, nothing.

"Um, what movie?" Quinn finally spoke.

"Love Actually? It's my favorite Christmas movie. Have you seen it?" Rachel asked with a grin and walked to the television. Quinn awkwardly stepped sideways out of her path, hands still shoved into her pockets and eyes still finding the room's decorations all too interesting.

"I think so."

"You _think_ so?" Rachel laughed. "Baby, are you okay? You look kind of pale. Did, um, Fred come to see you today?"

Yes, he came!

Why did she think Quinn was pale and shivering and awkward?

"Maybe."

"So you got my note?"

"Maybe."

"Did you _read_ my note?" Rachel purred and walked back over to the gargoyle blonde. She snuck her arms in the slits between Quinn's arms and sides and looped them around her back. She locked in tight and pulled her close.

"Maybe," Quinn murmured and bit her lip. Rachel fought back a giggle.

"Look, Bee, nothing has happened that you don't want to happen."

"That's not what your note said."

"My note was a bit sarcastic."

"You're never sarcastic," Quinn pointed out. Rachel cocked her head and thought on it. The girl was right. She was never sarcastic.

"Okay, so I wasn't being sarcastic, but I'm telling you the truth now. No pressure here, okay?" Rachel assured and leaned forward to give her a slight peck. Quinn softened in her arms.

"Okay," she whispered. "So Love Actually?"

"Love Actually," Rachel smiled. She detached herself, pranced over to the tv and started their pre-dinner movie.

An hour into it, Quinn still couldn't relax. Rachel had curled into her side, was currently caressing her arm and neck, and smelled like, like, like heaven. She smelled like what heaven would smell like in a chocolate factory made of flowers and doused in vanilla… in sunshine.

"You smell nice," Quinn whispered and placed a kiss to her head.

"I shower often."

"Yeah, I showered before I came."

"Did you, um, you know…" Rachel stuttered, eyes locked on lobster children in the movie.

"Did I what?"

"You know…"

"Nooo, I don't know…"

"You _know_…"

"Use your words."

"Never mind," Rachel huffed and flopped on her other side, backing into Quinn. She reached behind her, grabbed an arm and pulled it over. Quinn swallowed her whole and Rachel felt at home, like always, in the girl's arm.

Quinn looked over her, those big brown, insecure eyes on the television and beautiful smile upturned in an amused grin.

"I love this scene," Rachel murmured.

Quinn's eyes never left her.

"Me too."

* * *

><p>Later after dinner, with Quinn's head in her lap and a book in her hands, they stretched sideways across their favorite over-stuffed loveseat in the Berrymen's living room. The eggnog flowed plentiful and the two sets of parents held nothing back. Something about Christmakuh celebrations just did it for them, apparently.<p>

Her mom danced with Hiram around the kitchen, every so often grabbing plates to clear the dinner table. She stuck to classic carols and H would pop in to harmonize some favorite Jewish choruses over hers.

It was a hot mess if Quinn had ever seen one.

But it was Christmas - and Hanukah- and with Rachel cradling her head and Wuthering Heights in her lap, life couldn't get much better. The fire crackled on the opposite wall and her dad sat with Leroy on the couch adjacent, discussing everything from Russell's new business to Leroy's landscape design.

Snooze fest if Rachel had ever seen one.

She shimmied further into the couch beside Quinn, rotated a little to fully lie next to her and then dropped her head on the blonde's shoulder.

"You comfy?" she asked and snuggled tighter. Quinn let her, because who wouldn't? She brought her book closer with her right hand and searched Rachel's out with her left. Their fingers laced in perfect comfort and Rachel's eyes fluttered shut. Quinn resumed reading, perfectly content with her Christmas love-story in hand and the love of her life at her side.

"Come out of the clouds, Q. Come be with me instead," Rachel murmured and snuggled closer. Quinn dropped her book and shifted towards her.

"I'm here."

"Read to me," she whispered.

"But you hate this book."

"No, I don't."

"You do. You've even used the word hate," Quinn giggled.

"Not when it's from your lips," she whispered, just barely, eyes still shut and pulse slowing. Quinn's heart drowned in the love, the easy, peaceful, and beautiful love resting beside her.

"You're not going to like it," she murmured.

"Read me something I'll like then."

Rachel reached her left arm out, lacing it softly around Quinn's stomach. She needed her closer, ever closer. Quinn's brain fluttered to mush and it took everything in her to focus on thinking about her favorite parts, parts Rachel would like. She turned through the pages and landed on one of the many pages with notes in the margin.

"This is one of my favorite quotes. It's, it's classic love in the most powerful sense. You can understand that, I think."

Rachel looked at Quinn. Their eyes locked in fiery understanding and then she dropped her head back to the blonde's shoulder. Her eyes fell closed and life seemed… right.

And then Quinn read.

"_If all else perished, and he remained, I should still continue to be; and if all else remained, and he were annihilated, the universe would turn to a mighty stranger: I should not seem a part of it_."

"Girls! Reading at a party is for nerds!" Judy wailed as Hiram twirled her through the dining room. "Come dance with your favorite mother!"

Quinn rolled her eyes and let the book fall across her stomach.

Rachel reached a shaken finger out and traced over a few lines of text. She needed them imprinted in her soul forever. She needed more of them, from Quinn's lips and Quinn's lips only.

"You're my only mother!" Quinn yelled.

"All the more reason I'm the favorite!" she laughed. The girls failed to contain their chuckles and watched Hiram spin Judy directly into Leroy.

She erupted with laughs and Leroy pulled her tight, tipped his leg and dipped her. She cocked back up with a smile that Quinn hadn't seen in months.

"Oh my, I haven't danced in ages! Russell, come here and dance with me," she slurred, waving her hands in euphoria over her head and shifting her weight from foot to foot to the rhythm of the soft, warm music in the background.

The sounds pulled over them and Rachel grinned at Quinn.

"I love your mother."

"She's your mother now, too," Quinn stated, serious and sure. The announcement hit Rachel like the blonde meant for it. She kept her gaze on Rachel as she took in the meaning, never once letting her eyes stray away. She needed Rachel to know she wasn't saying it off the cuff and she wasn't taking it lightly.

Rachel held back the tears she felt coming and redirected instead.

"Did I miss our wedding?" she chirped with a grin. Quinn laughed and snuggled closer.

"No, but guess what?"

"What?"

"We have an ornament."

"We have a what?" Rachel beamed.

"Fred gave us a present," Quinn winked. "A bright pink, almost bedazzled, Christmas ball ornament." Rachel gasped and slapped hands to her cheeks while snuggling further into the crook of Quinn's arm.

"No!"

"Yes."

"Pink!"

"Mhm."

"And bedazzled!"

"You bet," Quinn laughed. "Clearly he should've given it to you."

"How marvelous!"

"Guess what it says?"

"It speaks?" she gasped. Quinn pulled judgmental eyes over to her.

"Rachel. It's not magical. It's an ornament."

"You never know with bedazzles. They're special."

"Stop yourself," Quinn smirked. "On the side of it, it says Mrs. and Mrs. Berry-Fabray. First Christmas. Love, Fred."

Rachel's jaw fell and her shiny, glistening eyes widened.

"I'm_ first_?"

Quinn gasped.

"That's what you focus on!" she huffed and rolled off the couch. She hit the floor with a thud and then crawled to her feet.

"I'm kidding! It's beautiful," Rachel laughed and grabbed the girl's book off the couch. "Come sit with me. I'll read to you."

"I don't want you to read to me," she scoffed and turned to the others. Her mom skipped around with Hiram, both still dancing and jiving, and Leroy and her dad bantered over… god, she didn't even know… were they drunk? "Dad, are you drunk?"

"Quinnie!" he boasted, as if she'd just arrived.

"I've been right here, Dad."

"Hey watch this! Remember this?" he called out, stood, placed palms on his stomach, released a deep threading ho, ho, ho and shook his belly.

Oh, god, kill her now.

"Russell! You're jiggling!" Judy called from the kitchen.

"Well Santa _does_ jiggle, Jude. It's part of his charm," he derided.

"We're going outside," Quinn announced, shot Rachel a glare, and then paced to the door after grabbing her favorite green beanie off the hat rack. Rachel begrudgingly rolled off the couch and followed her love.

She stepped out the front door and watched as Quinn kicked snow off the top stoop to carve them out a seat.

"We can sit on the snow, you know. Dad's gonna be mad you're messing up his porch perfection," Rachel said.

"Not today. My ass can't take it today. It's still raw from earlier."

Ugh, what?

"Um, you need to explain that because I have really horrifying and troubling images streaming through my overactive mind right now."

Quinn whipped around to the brunette standing against the door, oversized Wicked sweatshirt and loose jeans draped over her. Her heated retort evaporated and she smiled.

"You look adorable right now," she said instead. Rachel glowed.

"I'm always adorable," she boasted with a smile.

"And there you go ruining it." Quinn turned with a giggle and sat down on the top step. The dark neighborhood settled over them and Rachel joined her girlfriend, lacing her left arm through Quinn's and resting her head against her shoulder.

"The lights are pretty," she murmured, eyes raking over the Beasley's decorations along with the two houses across the street.

"Yeah," she said and brought her fingers to Rachel's.

Silence fell over them. The beauty brought many avenues of distractions between snowmen and lights and trees and families through windows. Rachel couldn't find anything she wanted to look at last. There was always something more.

Kinda like how she felt about Quinn. There was always something more to love and adore and laugh about. They were a never-ending rollercoaster of joy somehow.

How, really, she didn't know. None of it made sense to her still, even though it felt like it made perfect sense. And now Quinn was calling Judy her mother and their dads were getting along and they had an ornament and a hyphened name.

And they would have sex- at some point. Tonight, tomorrow, a year from now, whenever, but it would happen. She felt like she needed a second heart to contain all the love she had flowing from it. When did life get so… traditionally, but unconventionally perfect?

And what would happen if it ended?

"Love," she whispered.

"Yeah?"

"Do you ever- first, don't take this the wrong way- but do you ever think about what would happen if, if something happened?" Rachel mumbled.

Quinn leaned back to take in the shy, vulnerable girl.

"What do you mean?"

"What will happen if, if we don't last?" she asked and let her eyes find the snowman she'd built earlier. She'd put a blonde wig over it with green grapes as eyes. It was perfect. She was perfect.

"I've never thought about it."

"Really?" Rachel smiled.

"Yes, really. It's never crossed my mind that we wouldn't last. And, but, well I guess if something ever happened, I'd just have to revert to Wuthering," she grinned. Rachel cocked an eyebrow.

"Is that so?"

"Yeah."

"And what does Wuthering say about us?"

"It's more so what they say about forgiveness when you hurt someone you love more than yourself," she murmured. Rachel let the warm, fuzziness of the moment roll over her.

"Go on."

Quinn beamed, ever excited to talk about her books.

"They say, '_Kiss me again, but don't let me see your eyes. I forgive what you have done to me. I love my murderer- but yours. How can I?' _And I think that says it all," she said with a quick, final wave of her hand.

"As if to say I forgive you for hurting me, but could never forgive myself- or whoever- for hurting you? Right?"

"Exactly. I think that's what true love is," Quinn said with a smile. "If I ever hurt you, I'd never forgive myself. If you ever hurt me, I'd forgive you instantly. Always know that, okay?"

"I won't ever hurt you."

"Just say okay," Quinn whispered. "Please."

"Okay, Bee. Okay," she sighed and leaned into the blonde to slide her lips across Quinn's, slowly pulling her closer. The blonde's thick beanie pressed into her forehead as their mouths pulled over each other's.

They kissed softly and innocently.

And then the innocence became needy.

And the need became desperation.

And the desperation became arousal.

And then Rachel crawled into Quinn's lap, ready to feel all of the above and all at once and all over.

"Make love to me," she purred.

The blonde slipped her tongue into Rachel's mouth, eager to love on anything and everything inside. Her hands wrapped around Rachel's thighs, hips, and then ass where they settled. She dug nails into her jeans and couldn't pull her close enough.

"But we're on the porch," Quinn husked.

"I mean inside. Now. Please. I just-"

"I know," Quinn murmured and sucked Rachel's tongue back into her mouth.

"You're never close enough. I always feel like I want more, but there's never more and I always feel-"

"Stop," Quinn groaned and tried to pull those mumbling lips back onto hers.

"I'm so tired of wondering and dreaming and _watching _you touch yourself when I know it should be-"

"Rachel, shut up," she tried again, pulling the girl's lips back onto her mouth. Rachel yanked back.

"I think we're ready and we have an ornament and I have a mother and you'll always forgive me and-"

"_Rachel_. Kiss me. Just shut up and kiss me," Quinn growled, slapped her fingers around each side of Rachel's jaw and held her tightly in place, assaulting all the many specks of wonder she could. She kissed her top lip, her bottom, her dimples, her chin, and when she got bored, she craned her head sideways and delved inside, repeating her exploration over every spectacular thing inside.

She tasted like heaven as much as she smelled like heaven.

And this time, Rachel let her have her way. She melted into the feeling of Quinn needing nothing but to be kissing her. She loved feeling the blonde's thighs clench underneath her. She loved feeling those hands paw at anything they could grip.

God, she just loved her. She loved her so very much. She loved her in the forever kind of love her way. She loved her in the "we'll be grey and old and crazy together in a nursing home" kind of way.

"Promise we'll be crazy old women together," she said between deep, probing kisses.

"I promise."

"Promise you'll wash my hair," Rachel murmured and nipped at her.

"I promise."

"Promise you'll tell our children stories of the star, Rachel Berry."

"I promise."

"Promise we'll _have_ children," Rachel giggled.

"I _promise_."

"Promise me everything."

"I promise, love."

"Does the word promise sound weird to you now?" Rachel mumbled.

Quinn erupted in laughter, falling back to her elbows on the wooden porch. Rachel straddled her hips and laughed loudly, happiness in her eyes and a smirk on her lips. She slid a bit lower and ever so subtly ground her hips down.

Quinn sucked her bottom lip between her teeth and pushed up.

"Are you nervous?" Rachel asked.

"About?"

"You know what about."

"Yes."

"Me, too."

"I thought you googled everything," Quinn taunted with a smile and pushed up again. Rachel's chest rose with a sultry inhale and Quinn pushed again.

"You can only learn so much without hands on experience," Rachel mumbled and let her eyes fall shut as Quinn pushed up again.

"Where do you want your hands first?"

Rachel opened her eyes and locked on Quinn. Could they do… stuff… on the porch? She shot a quick glance to her left, clear, and then to her right-

Oh.

Mrs. Beasley.

The woman stared directly at them with a huge grin on her face. Rachel's face flushed red and she de-straddled Quinn. The blonde caught the reaction and pulled her attention to the left.

_Oh_.

Mrs. Beasley.

"Merry Christmas and Happy Hanukah, girls," she called across the yard and smiled.

"Merry Christmas, Mrs. Beasley," they growled through gritted teeth. The woman turned her gaze away and went back to rocking.

"Inside?" Quinn whispered. Rachel nodded and they shot to their feet, gave the old lady a friendly wave, and then piled inside the door.

Two seconds later, they stumbled upon their parents huddled around the coffee table: Judy held a pitcher of eggnog, Russell wore an over-sized red t-shirt of Leroy's, Hiram donned a Menorah hat, and Leroy sang carols… to himself.

"Oh… my… god," Rachel muttered.

"What the-"

"Girls! Come join the party!" Judy shouted and shot to what looked like new legs underneath her. She wobbled left, wobbled right, and then landed in front of them, two glasses in hand and a lopsided smile on her face. "I just love you two." She turned back to her posse. "Don't you guys just love these two?"

"We just love these two," they mumbled with drunken voices, none of them turning to look, and then Judy poured two glasses.

"Have a seat and join us!"

"Mom, we're gonna go up-"

"Not acceptable," her dad barked. "Nope. No upstairs. Not on Christmakuhnah. Come sit! Come celerrrbrate," he drawled out.

"Oh Jesus," Quinn muttered. Rachel's face fell and they dragged their feet over to the table. Hiram pulled Rachel down beside him and Judy dragged Quinn over to her edge.

Now they weren't even beside each other anymore?

And they had to sit through- what were they even playing? Ugh, it would be a long night, long night that wasn't even remotely going as they hoped.

* * *

><p>Four hours later, the bedroom door shut behind them and it sounded like trumpets, birds, and newborn kittens. Also, angels.<p>

"I cannot believe our parents," Rachel moaned, exhausted, and leaned back against the door. Quinn fell back beside her, eyes tired, extremely annoyed, and overall more disappointed than she'd ever been in her life.

"No Christmakuh party next year," she muttered. "Our parents are not allowed to hang out anymore."

"They already have our New Year's, Spring Break, birthdays, and summer trips planned, Bee."

"We can move."

"To Africa."

"Sarcasm?" Quinn giggled.

"Thought I'd give it a try," she smiled.

"I'm sorry tonight didn't go as planned," she whispered and lolled her head right to rest on Rachel's.

"It's two in the morning after a day of laughing, our parents are passed out, and we have an ornament; I'd say my Christmas went pretty well. No regrets."

"None?"

"No, sweetheart," Rachel assured. "Let's change and go to sleep. We can talk more about… it… tomorrow."

Quinn sighed, pressed a kiss to her lips and nodded. They parted with relieved grins and Rachel headed to her dresser.

"Can you believe today?" she giggled.

Quinn thought back over the day, all the way back to the annoyances of the bzzz bzzz bzzzzing and Frannie texting and her mom's piano playing.

And then Rachel stripped her shirt off and pulled open her drawer.

And Quinn forgot about her day.

Her eyes fell over Rachel's back and into a trance. Every curve hypnotized her as if drawn with that purpose in mind. Rachel had freckles down her spine, dimples at her lower back and divots over her shoulder blades.

Quinn had seen them a million times, but never really looked.

And now, now she could only stand and look.

_Look at her._

Rachel pulled her hair out, stripped off her bra, tossed on a tank top and then dropped her jeans to her ankles.

_Oh, look at her._

Quinn's feet took her slowly across the room.

_Look at those legs. _

Again, she'd seen them every day, but she'd never really looked.

_Look at them._

"Do you want a tank or a tee tonight, Bee?" Rachel asked, rummaging through her drawer. Quinn's feet stopped directly behind her. She inhaled that chocolate factory made of flowers doused in vanilla scent as if it were a drug. She needed a hit. She'd forever need a hit.

Her eyes fluttered shut and she inhaled again.

She wanted it, needed it, and could do it.

She stepped forward once more, pressing her front into Rachel's back. The girl's breath hitched, her fingers jerked open, and the clothes in her hands fluttered down to the drawer.

"Neither," Quinn whispered and placed a kiss on her shoulder.

Rachel's eyes widened and she leaned back into the blonde. Something had changed. Something had definitely changed in the last minute.

"Quinn."

"Yes?" she asked between more kisses.

"We just took sex off the table," she murmured and cocked her neck to the left to provide more access. Quinn gripped her waist, turned her around and walked her into the dresser. The drawers slid shut at the pressure and Rachel smirked. "So it's back on the table?"

"It's always been on the table, for months now. And I'm so sorry I made you wait," Quinn whispered and connected their mouths. Rachel melded into her, arms flopping around her shoulders and hips meeting.

"Why_ did_ you make me wait?"

"Leroy asked me to. The day he told me he loved me," Quinn said, laced her arms around Rachel's waist and buried her face in the brunette's neck to hug her. Rachel's heart pounded for her girlfriend and for her father. She felt overwhelmingly loved and protected in that moment.

And that's all she ever wanted.

She pulled away and brought Quinn's gaze to hers.

"And tonight?" she asked.

"Tonight I don't care about your father."

A sly, sexy smile spread over Rachel and her body tingled.

"I think I'm losing circulation," she muttered and Quinn laughed.

"I'm going to take your shirt off now," she whispered.

"So it's happening?"

"It's happening," Quinn said, gripped the hem of Rachel's tank and slowly dragged it up her body and over her head. Cool hair rushed over her torso, over the little hairs on her stomach, the sweat beads under her breasts, and the peaks of her small nipples.

Rachel inhaled deeply.

"I'm suddenly very nervous," she whimpered.

"Don't be."

"And I'm kind of ecstatic."

"You're rambling."

"I'm terrified."

"Stop with the adjectives," Quinn demanded and slid her fingertips up Rachel's stomach. She needed to memorize it, all of it. Soft little mounds and curves dipped in every which direction. Her finger traced them as if to record every nuance.

"What if, what if it's bad?"

"It's not possible," Quinn muttered and dropped her head back to Rachel's neck. She placed soft, placating kisses to the skin, Rachel's pulse pounding wildly beneath it.

"It is," she sighed. "It is possible. You hear so many jokes about-"

"Rachel."

"I just want to be good."

"You're good at everything you do. Why are you suddenly insecure about this?"

"It's not sudden. I've always been insecure about this! Don't you know me but at all?" Rachel huffed and wrapped her arms over her breasts. Quinn stopped her kisses and took a step back.

"What can I do? Tell me how to make you feel okay."

"Why do _you_ feel okay?"

"I don't," Quinn said. "You're just chattier."

"Chattier," Rachel scoffed. She loathed herself. She loathed her chatty ways and her insecurities and her inability to shut up and make love to her girlfriend. She dropped her eyes to the floor.

Quinn needed to fix it and fix it quickly or their chances would dissipate like so many times before.

"Look," she started and stepped back into Rachel. She brought a hand up to her neck and connected their eyes. Those innocent, sweet, brown eyes that captured her heart in a nun's costume stared over her, fear and want equally battling it out. "I love you."

"I know you do," she whimpered, "but-"

"I love the way you kiss me," Quinn interrupted and slid her lips over Rachel's. "You do this thing," she breathed, "where you dart your tongue out onto my bottom lip. And," she kissed her harder and then broke, "it drives me crazy. It makes my legs do this shaky thing. And my heart," she said with a smile, grabbed one of Rachel's hands off her breast and laid it on her own chest, "it races."

The brunette felt it pounding beneath her hand and hers picked up pace to match. Quinn stepped closer, pinching their hands between them, and placed her cheek to Rachel's.

"And when you put your hands on me," she started and Rachel's toes curled at the simplest thought, "it's like fireworks. And it makes me all warm, like sweet apple pie."

"Quinn…"

"No, that's what you do, just with one touch, just with one kiss. So you see," she smiled, "there's no way you'll be bad. You could simply lie on top of me, naked, like that night at Puck's, and I'd be content."

Rachel's mind shot back to that night. It was all so clear to her now, why Quinn stopped them. She swallowed the thoughts and focused on Quinn kissing down her neck and over her shoulder. It was like the trail of tears, but wonderful and marvelous and she wanted it to spread down her arms and over her chest and across her stomach.

But Quinn stayed put, there on her neck.

She brought her fingers up to lace them through blonde hair and yanked her away. Quinn stood before her, green beanie pulled down over blonde hair, near black eyes, and straight lips.

"Close your eyes," Rachel whispered and tugged the beanie off.

Quinn didn't know what was about to happen but she didn't care. She closed her eyes, stilled herself and waited. Rachel, in only her underwear, stepped into her. Quinn could feel her everywhere. She prayed life always felt like that, with Rachel everywhere.

She wanted to feel the heat, the comfort, the hot skin, and the heartbeat for the rest of her life. It was as if nothing else existed outside their two feet wide circle and she wouldn't have it any other way.

Rachel's dainty hands dragged up the front of her thighs and found her jeans button. She popped it loose and Quinn heard the slightest intake of breath. With her eyes closed, she heard and felt and smelled everything more than she ever would have. If that was Rachel's intention all along, it worked.

Those fingers found her zipper and tugged it down.

And then those hands slid inside her loose jeans, around her sides and palmed her ass to pull them together. Suddenly Rachel's breasts were pressed against her hoodie, her chin dug into Quinn's collar bone, and their thighs melded into one.

"Rach," she breathed, just because.

The brunette smiled onto her skin, pleased with how intoxicating it felt to take over Quinn. She kissed the divot of her neck, gave her backside a soft squeeze and then bent at the knees. She dropped lower, lower, and lower, her hands dragging down Quinn's legs as she went and her mouth placing kisses in a path she'd soon follow back up.

Jeans hit the floor without a sound and Rachel kissed both kneecaps, one, slowly, and two, slower, before ascending back up over thighs, hips, waist, and finally to her previous spot in her neck. The blonde shivered under her touch and it ticked her confidence level one notch higher.

"I'm so in love with you," she whispered for no reason in particular and trailed her hands up Quinn's hoodie to the zipper on her chest. She raised her eyes up to Quinn's closed lids, smiled, and grabbed the metal before pulling it down. The edges fell open and the blonde sighed.

"What makes you-"

"Shhh," Rachel stopped her, laced a hand around her neck and brought their lips together. "You've talked enough."

"There you go," Quinn muttered, a smirk playing at the edge of her lips.

"There I go what?"

"There you go stealing things."

"What'd I steal this time?"

"The scene," she giggled. "My heart."

"I stole that a long time ago," Rachel said and pulled Quinn's shirt over her shoulders. "And let's not pretend the scene was ever yours."

Quinn gasped.

Rachel reached out to palm her breasts over her bra.

And Quinn gasped again.

"I said shhh," Rachel repeated and stepped closer. She laid her head sideways over the blonde's chest as each millimeter between their bodies became non-existent. She let her hands drop from Quinn's chest to slide around her sides, hugging her with all intentions of being closer and closer and then her bra clasp fell under her touch and her intentions changed.

"Take it off."

"I don't need direction."

"All actresses need direction."

"I'm not acting."

She snapped the clasp open and ran her hands over porcelain shoulders to drop the bra free. It fluttered to the ground and Rachel lowered her eyes.

Quinn's pulled open and looked down.

Rachel was enamored. She raked her eyes over every inch of them, every freckle, peak, and curve. Her tongue snaked out to wet her lips and the right side of her mouth quirked in need. Quinn smiled at the sight.

"You okay?"

Rachel's gaze darted up.

"I said close your eyes."

"Why? So you can ogle me without abandon?"

"Yes," she whispered and looked away. "You watching makes me nervous."

"Why?"

"Stop questioning me and close your eyes. I have things to touch."

Quinn closed her eyes.

She waited.

And waited.

Hot breath hit her sternum and she waited longer. She waited for any sort of contact. She waited for bare thighs to press into her own. She waited for lips to hit her skin. She waited for fingers to find their way.

Nothing came.

"Rachel?"

"Mhm…" she breathed and that heat blew over Quinn's chest again. Her eyes rolled back behind closed lids and her hands twitched at her sides.

"Why aren't you-"

"I was testing your ability to not question me. You've failed," Rachel giggled. Quinn hung her head in annoyed desperation. Enough was enough.

She pulled her eyes open.

They burned into Rachel's.

"You're done," she stated.

Rachel's left eyebrow hiked a notch and before she knew it, Quinn was on her. The slowly built, contained tension exploded. Quinn gripped her waist, turned them around and collapsed them onto the bed.

Rachel yelped out a giggle as Quinn plastered kisses all over her neck, shoulders, and lips.

"Okay, okay," she surrendered. "Okay. Slow down, come here," she begged, dug her short nails into Quinn's hair and pulled her up. The blonde hovered above her.

_Now_ it was time. Now it was happening. She let her body settle softly onto Rachel's, legs intertwined and stomachs together.

"Make love to me," Quinn pleaded.

"You'd never have to ask," Rachel smirked.

They giggled at the irony. Rachel had asked. She'd begged. She'd pleaded. She'd flat demanded. And Quinn continued sitting on her own hands, until today, until now, until she'd asked. They chuckled, shared an understanding nod of security, and then brought their lips together.

Quinn settled the rest of the way down, their bare chests coming together, and snaked her arms under and around Rachel's neck. All of their kisses built to this one. After all, if you're not kissing up to something, what are you kissing for?

She kissed Rachel first because she had to.

She kissed her again because she wanted to.

She kissed more because she needed Rachel to fall in love just as she had. And then she kissed to show her that love. And then they kissed to build and exude passion. And now they kissed to release it.

They were always kissing for something: kissing for a thank you, kissing for more sandwiches, kissing for congratulations, and kissing hello.

As she turned her head and loved Rachel's tongue with her own, she prayed they never had to kiss to say goodbye. She prayed they never had a last. She prayed they'd die kissing in that nursing home where they'd be old, crazy women and she'd love washing Rachel's hair and reminding her of her celebrity.

Because she'd never get enough.

She clenched her eyes tighter and pressed deeper. Rachel inhaled beneath her, needing air and more air, but not needing it more than she needed Quinn. She gripped her tight around her bare waist, drawing what felt like letters or words or circles on her lower back. She was always there, everywhere.

She traced those patterns lower and hooked her fingers in Quinn's underwear. The blonde shuddered and wanted to laugh at herself. They hadn't done anything they'd not done before, but it all felt new. It all felt new because it all had-

Rachel jerked her knee up, rocked right and rolled them over.

Purpose.

It all had purpose. Quinn gulped.

Rachel settled over her hips with a smile. She let her eyes drag down Quinn's bare front, her fingers following, learning, adoring in their wake. When they landed at her underwear, Rachel hiked off her to the side and pulled them down her legs.

They fluttered to the floor and Rachel's eyes glued to Quinn.

And Quinn found the ceiling.

She could feel Rachel staring at her. She could feel Rachel's eyes raking slowly, so slowly, over all of her. Her heart pounded in her chest.

Please god, let her be pretty enough.

She shivered under the gaze she felt and when nothing happened, her eyes shot back down to her girlfriend still hovered on her knees to the right, eyes locked wide between Quinn's legs and mouth agape.

Quinn gulped again and fought the natural instinct to cover herself. She breathed through the so-called pain and swallowed all the stupid thoughts coming to her lips. _You've talked enough._

Let her look.

She'd looked at Rachel.

"You're…" the brunette started and swallowed, her chest heaving a bit. Those wide eyes traced down her legs and then back up her entirety to land on those anchors. They pulled her in tight.

She swung her leg back over Quinn and brought their lips together.

"You're everything I hoped for," she finished between kisses.

It was perfect. Quinn expected beautiful, perfect, amazing, gorgeous, some word that'd been used so often it lost its true meaning.

But not Rachel.

Rachel was never the norm. She never read from the manual, spoke from the book. And because of it, Quinn fell in love all over again.

She did a sit up, pulling Rachel tightly against her and hugged her. She just needed to hug her. She wrapped her arms clear around those tiny shoulders, buried her face in brown hair and held tight.

"You okay?" Rachel whispered, fingers running down her spine, over and over. It lulled Quinn into an air of euphoria.

"More than," she said, kissed the girl's bare shoulder and brought her hands south. They landed on Rachel's thong and danced over the shiny material. Dainty and lovely to the touch, they were just like the girl in her arms. "Can we take these off?"

"Of course," Rachel smiled. "Might be kind of important."

"Maybe," she grinned. Rachel crawled to her feet on the bed and waited.

At that, Quinn swallowed the expectations she previously had for how the underwear-removal process would be happening. Because clearly it wasn't happening like she thought it would.

She drew her eyes up to the scenario before her: Rachel's legs flanked her thighs and the thong sat eye level directly in front of her.

"Take them off me, Bee," Rachel purred from high above. Quinn swore she would be swallowing her tongue before the night was over. Her trembling hands dragged up Rachel's legs. The girl shivered at the knees. "It tickles."

"Don't care," Quinn muttered and continued. Her hands splayed over tight thighs and adorable hips. Bright blue material hid her hands as they slipped under and gripped from the inside. She looked up and found Rachel.

She nodded.

Quinn gripped the thong, pulled it down and watched Rachel shiver just as she had. Her intoxicating eyes looked away as Quinn's stare flowed lower, lower, and lower. It landed dead center and Rachel forced herself to stand proud.

She stepped out of her thong at Quinn's request to each foot and then waited. Cold hands trailed back up her legs and gripped her behind.

"Come here," Quinn whispered and pulled her forward the few spare inches they'd left between them. Her lips landed dead center in a sweet kiss and Rachel's hand fluttered over her heart. Her skin burned with pleasure.

Quinn kissed her again and then trailed kisses out over her hip bones, thighs, and sides, sending the burning out and around and all over. Quinn curled her arms around those hips and pulled Rachel back down onto her.

She landed on her knees with a thud and they lay back.

"I feel like I'm on fire," Rachel muttered.

"Me too."

"Normal?"

"Yeah, love."

"How do you know? Maybe it's the shrimp."

"Don't do this now. You know I find your rambling chatty Kathy ways adorable, but god, please do not do this now," Quinn begged and brought her thigh up between Rachel's legs. It took her previously burning skin and tossed lighter fluid on it.

"Oh wow," Rachel groaned. "Do that again."

Quinn did and she careened on top of her.

"That?"

Rachel bit her lip, clenched her eyes and nodded. "Is, is that normal?"

"Is what?"

"Rubbing with thighs."

"Baby, stop wondering what's normal and do what feels right."

"Everything feels right," she moaned as Quinn's leg found her wetness again.

"Then stop questioning it."

"I'm sorry," she murmured and kissed the blonde's cheek.

"Don't be. You're everything I hoped for, too."

Rachel melted and in that moment, she vowed to stop worrying. She vowed to stop wondering. She vowed to stop questioning.

She vowed to do whatever felt right and good and natural.

And what felt right was kissing the girl of her dreams.

She brought herself down and did just that.

And then she wanted more. She wanted all of her all at once. Her mind raced in a thousand directions. She wanted to kiss her hands. She wanted to touch her ass. She wanted to run her tongue down her back. She wanted to suck on her chest.

There was so much to do and nerves pulsed at the thought of what to do next and when and how and would they-

"Rach?"

"Mmm?"

"You okay? You're shaking," she whispered and brought her thigh up again. They rolled together, moved together, kissed shoulders and panted.

"I just, there's so much I want to do; I don't know what to do first."

"You have a lifetime to do whatever you want to me."

Oh, god.

Rachel's head sagged and she yearned at the thought. She had a lifetime. She did. She had years upon years to explore and learn and become the sex goddess she knew she could be.

But right now, in her first time, what did she want?

Narrow the scope.

Her thoughts magnified to one, and only one thing.

She grinned, placed a brief, happy kiss on the blonde's lips, and then shimmied south. She'd waited nine months to get a piece of the blonde. She wanted that piece, if only for a kiss.

She kissed down her stomach, over her angled hip bones and hovered between her legs, destination reached and nerves abounding.

"Really, Rach?" Quinn laughed. "I was kissing you…"

"And now I'm gonna kiss you," she whispered, eyes on her target, her beautiful target, and leaned forward.

Her eyes fluttered shut and like a lifeline flashing before her eyes, her expectations for taste, smell, feeling, and experience rushed over her in what felt like half a second flat.

They were all wrong.

Her parted, wet lips connected with Quinn and a wealth of arousal, emotions, and knowledge poured over her. She opened her mouth wider and kissed again. Quinn shivered beneath her.

It was her single most favorite feeling to date.

She snaked her tongue out, gave a flat lick, and then kissed her again, tasting that unique sweetness and inhaling the usual musky scent. That scent drove her nuts when Quinn was beside her, under her, or over her and pleasuring herself. Over the past month, they became quite versed in the act. And every time they did, Rachel wanted that smell closer, close enough to taste.

And here it was.

She lapped her tongue out again, running it between Quinn's folds and a moan fell from the blonde's lips.

Rachel had caused that. She had.

She did it again, harder, and again.

Quinn groaned and snuck her fingers in brown hair.

Rachel had planned to kiss her and leave, crawl back north and let their fingers do the work, but now all she wanted was more of Quinn making sounds like that.

"Come here. Come back up here," Quinn moaned.

Or not.

She crawled up in a hurry and kissed the blonde with fire. After all, she had her entire life to finish what she started and to start many more things. Ideas pounded through her head after only one minute down there. She couldn't imagine what her thoughts would be like in the morning once they were done and pandora's box was open.

Quinn rolled them over, drove her thigh into Rachel and kissed her with all the passion she felt for the girl. She'd felt it from the beginning, from the first slushie, from the first insult, all the way up to the nun's costume and their first kiss.

She thanked God for giving her the strength to do something about it.

She couldn't imagine life without the girl beneath her. She brought her lips to Rachel's breasts, kissing all these feelings into them. She licked over a nipple and watched Rachel respond with a moan and bite to her lip.

She did it again.

And then she switched and did it on the other one, the other equally sexy and willing one. She kissed a trail between them and pulled the left into her mouth. Rachel whimpered and her hips jerked up. Quinn pinned her back down with her own.

"I hope you know," Rachel panted and Quinn sucked harder. "Once we do this, I'm not gonna be able to stop."

She released her nipple with a pop and kissed up her chest to her neck and then lips.

"I'll never ask you to."

"You're driving me crazy," Rachel moaned and grasped for anything that brought Quinn closer.

"Likewise," she grunted when those hands connected to her hips and she rocked up into them. Their slick centers rubbed over each other and Quinn couldn't imagine anything, anything at all in life, ever feeling better than that.

"Touch me," Rachel begged.

Maybe not.

She trailed her hand down Rachel's front, dancing a cute trail with her fingers as they smiled at one another. Rachel giggled in frustration and then her eyes fell shut when Quinn hit her mark.

She slid between soaked thighs and felt Rachel fully for the first time. She imagined it felt like what heroin addicts felt when a full syringe shot into their system. It lit her up with feelings she couldn't explain. She felt like sunshine, like a burning sunshine.

And Rachel was there, below her, exuding enough heat to burn them both. She rubbed her forehead on the sheets and Rachel spread her legs.

Sweat beads pooled on her forehead all over again.

Quinn dragged her fingers over and around to learn her love. Each spot elicited a different response. There made her whimper. There made her gasp. There made her clench. There made the muscles in her neck jolt out like they were trying to escape.

But _there_, there made her melt.

Rachel's eyes closed, her jaw gaped, and she looked to lose who and where she was. Quinn stuck to-

Oh, god.

"Oh, god," she murmured.

"I can play, too," Rachel purred and nipped at her ear as she ran her sneaky fingers back up through Quinn's wetness.

Quinn's forehead collapsed, her world crashed and she lost herself.

They mimicked each other's movements, learning and directing all at once. Rachel's fingers trembled against her hot skin and the vibrations multiplied the sensation. She'd miss that.

She'd miss the nerves that made this moment extraordinary. She'd miss watching those brown eyebrows dance in wonder as those fingers tried different things down below. She'd miss the intense arousal from the first touches.

She'd miss making Rachel gasp each time she dropped her fingers a bit lower. She'd miss the anticipation.

"I love you," she murmured into the girl's ear.

"Mhm, ditto," Rachel panted. Quinn giggled through rasps and dropped even lower the next time she pulled her fingers through the girl.

She felt the same between her own legs.

"Ready?" Quinn purred, placed a sweet kiss to the jaw gaped open and Rachel nodded before swiping quick circles around the hard nub she'd grown to love. Quinn careened above her, wanting nothing more than for those circles to continue. "I change my mind."

Rachel chuckled, breathlessly, dropped south and circled again, but at Quinn's entrance.

"Ohhh, or not," she gasped. She failed to remember a time she'd felt so good. "I'm ready, definitely ready."

"With me," Rachel panted. Quinn dragged her fingers further south and rested just as Rachel had for her. She watched teeth bite down on plump lips, eyes flutter behind lids and cheeks burn red.

Quinn pushed into her and those lids snapped open. Rachel shot forward, captured her lips and pushed her own fingers into Quinn. In an instant, everything changed. Their tongues probed as their fingers pushed deep.

Gasps of air expelled between taut lips and Quinn could've cried.

She could've cried and died from the pleasure.

And Rachel wasn't any better off; she bucked slowly below the blonde, needing more and deeper and everything. She needed everything.

She pushed further into Quinn and- oh, god, so did she. Rachel gripped what she could to hold on and it just so happened to be Quinn. Her fingers hooked roughly inside and Quinn lost it.

"There, you found, god I don't know," she stuttered and rolled her hips down. Rachel did it again and again and again as the blonde slowly lost another level of control. Goosebumps covered her back, trembles fluttered over her thighs and she lost the knowledge of how to kiss.

Her lips quivered over Rachel's and she hooked inside again.

And then Quinn mimicked her, because why wouldn't she? Look what Rachel had learned and done and mastered by accident. She pushed deep and cocked her fingers there, no… there, no… there-

"Oh my god," Rachel groaned.

_There._

"Again," she growled. "It's like, it's like…"

"Yeah," Quinn gasped as the brunette gave back just the same.

They rocked together, hips undulating and hands performing magic.

It was; it was _magic_.

Why did the 8 Ball not have_ that_ information?

"I feel it," Quinn panted, brought her free hand to Rachel's left nipple and gripped. That tiny body arced off the bed in wonder.

"Another," she gasped. Quinn pinched her again and Rachel shook her head rapidly. "No, finger. Another finger."

Quinn pulled out, as did Rachel, and when they slid back in with two, Rachel could've sworn the room started spinning.

"I feel like I'm hurting you," Quinn muttered through kisses to her neck. Hell, if her fingers ached from the lack of space, Rachel had to ache as well, right? She was… she was stretching.

"Do I look like I'm in pain," she moaned and rocked harder into Quinn as she thrust her own fingers in and out of the blonde. "Are _you_ in pain?"

"God, no."

Rachel forced out a laugh through raspy gasps. She needed more air. She needed that train storming through her stomach to slam into the brick wall approaching. She needed havoc, wreckage, and explosion.

"Faster."

"You too."

She couldn't tell who was who anymore. Was that arm Quinn's or hers? Was that gasp from Quinn or from her? Was that wetness on her leg draining out of Quinn or her? She didn't know anything.

And it felt exactly as it should. She lost herself. She lost the date. She lost where they were. She lost who she was.

All she knew was Quinn.

And all Quinn could feel was Rachel, Rachel and her panting and her rocking and her lip-biting and her mutterings of more and faster and love and trains.

She didn't understand the train, but she didn't care. She worked her fingers over the girl and prayed the fire burning between her legs would flame to the ceiling and back.

"Oh, god, it's, it's…" Rachel gasped, clenched and thrust into Quinn.

"Happening," Quinn groaned and felt fire rocket through her. They slammed into each other as the world vanished. It vanished completely and all that remained was a quivering pile of shuddering Berry-Fabray.

Rachel's train hit her wall and caught fire in Quinn.

She got her wreckage, havoc and explosion.

And nothing else mattered- _except_ when they could do it all again.


	22. Chapter 21 First Week of College

First Week of College

_Can We Turn Around?_

"Rachel Berry?" the woman with the clipboard shouted from the stage. Rachel gulped, looked to the strangers to her right and left, and then stood wearily.

"I'm, I'm Rachel."

"Let's have it, stage front. Center. Hand your music to James on the way up," she barked, her dark rimmed, wide circular glasses perching haphazardly on her nose. She could've been a fifty year old hipster if not for her pleated slacks.

Who wore pleats anymore?

Rachel shuffled past the knees of her fellow classmates, judgmental eyes scouring her over, and walked towards the stage.

There were twenty-two students in her Intro to The Stage class. It started her Mondays and Wednesdays off with a bang. Monday she managed to watch ten students give their introduction performances and ten students get ripped apart by Pleaty Glasses.

And now it was Wednesday and her turn.

She jogged up the stairs, hands trembling as her toes caught a ledge. They hooked and sent her stumbling forward. Her palms hit the top step with a thud and her knees cracked over the others. A collective gasp evaporated throughout the auditorium.

Dammit. _Dammit, Rachel._

She sighed, gathered herself, and skipped up the rest of the steps and towards the middle of the stage. Bright white lights hit her eyes and her twenty two classmates disappeared.

But Pleaty Glasses, she never disappeared.

"Any day now, Miss Berry."

_Miss Berry._

Fred. Her eyes dropped to the floor in a moment of hesitation, the ease and joys of high school and childhood running over her. Tears pooled in her eyes and she swore if she cried she would never forgive herself.

"Miss Berry!"

"Okay! Sorry," she choked out. She gave James a nod to begin, brought her eyes back the bright white lights, and then closed them.

Leroy appeared.

And Rachel sang.

She sang her heart out.

She sang for thirty seconds before Pleaty Glasses threw up a hand, a cough, and then _ripped_ her to ever-living shreds.

* * *

><p>Fifty blocks north, Quinn sat in Composition 101, head resting on her fist and pencil tapping the desk. Her teacher favored a young Matthew McConaughey, minus the charming southern accent. He sat on the edge of his desk and boasted about how this class would not be your regular literature class.<p>

"This class will be a love affair between the comma and the semi colon, the use of lie versus lay, the outstanding and fascinating dance between knowing when to break the rules of grammar and _knowing_ the rules of grammar!"

His enthusiasm for composition nauseated her.

"We won't read, we will write. We won't debate and analyze, we will write. We won't even talk, but we will most definitely write."

Thrilling.

"So let's grab a pen, grab your comp books… and write."

Quinn raised her hand.

"Blondie, yes!" he shouted and popped to his feet. His khakis straightened over his legs and his button down formed tight over his well-kept body.

"My name is Quinn," she offered.

"I know."

"Oh. Um," she stuttered, suddenly forgetting her question. God, what was she talking about? Oh right. "What are we supposed to write?"

"So you're one that needs direction, I see?"

Her classmates dropped subtle glances her way. Were they judging her? She could tell they were just as confused and in need of direction as she was, but none spoke up. Maybe this wouldn't be the class to make friends.

"No, not necessarily. I was just curious."

"Don't be curious, _write_."

"Write what?"

"Wriiiiite."

Quinn rolled her eyes, nodded, and dropped her hand to her paper. She stared over the lines and all she could think about was how many days it had been since her lunch with Rachel. It'd been five, to be exact.

They texted. They called. They emailed.

But she hadn't seen Rachel's face in five days.

It made her want to write about pain and ache and heartbreak. It made her want to doodle like she used to, like freshman year. She could bring the hearts back, forget the big nose, and slave over the details: the gorgeous freckles, the shining eyes, and the glorious smile.

Her pen took flight, sketching curvy lines, shading depth, drawing out her feelings and want and love.

She wasn't sure how much time went by. She wasn't sure about anything but how to put a line the way she wanted it to portray Rachel the way she was.

She wasn't an artist, but she knew the girl.

Minutes later, a hand dragged into view, gripped her paper and took it north. Her eyes fluttered with it and landed on her teacher, bright blue eyes shining and movie star grin lighting up the room.

He was pretty, very pretty.

He looked over her drawing and then he looked over her.

He knew she was going to be interesting the second she asked what to write. Students that cared enough to ask were always interesting. And now, instead of writing, she was sketching, sketching in his composition course.

She was certainly going to be interesting.

He set the notebook back down on her desk and found nervous, young eyes staring directly at his collar, unsure if they could stare at him directly, he knew.

He quietly knocked a knuckle twice on her desk to get her attention.

Those eyes popped up.

"Add words to this and you'll be successful for the day… _Quinn_."

A smile of the likes he'd never seen spread across her face.

She was certainly interesting.

She nodded fiercely and looked back down at Rachel as her teacher walked further down the aisle, taking in one student's words after the next.

_Adds words to this and you'll be successful._

She looked over Rachel's face, studying the thing she knew best in the world. A rush, a novel, an ocean of words flowed over her.

She cocked her notebook sideways, aligned her pen with the line of Rachel's jaw and then wrote; she wrote lines bottom to top, left to write, until half of Rachel's face shined bright, painted with words.

Quinn sat back, her pen falling to the desk, and exhaled.

* * *

><p>New York City primarily boasted itself as a city of beauty, action, and excitement. It never slept, it never quit, and it always winked at you. It held secrets, dreams, and passion.<p>

Rachel adored it, most days.

Today, good ol' Friday, she loathed it. She wanted nothing more than Lima. She wanted familiarity, easy stardom, and praise. She wanted to be in a classroom full of people with whom she knew would never reach her level of talent. She wanted the worship she'd experienced at McKinnely.

But no, she was in New York City at a school where every single kid was as gifted as she. Every single kid floated over their high school friends in the way she did. Every single kid was accustomed to being the star.

And every single teacher knew it.

That's why they called the first week Hell Week. These teachers, these teachers who were so in the know, it was their prerogative to break you down from your clouds. It was their duty to strip you clean of all the confidence you unrightfully built into yourself while you pranced through high school untouched.

They touched you. They slammed gavels into you. They didn't care.

Because it was their job to make you the best you could be at the level you could reach. And their first step to get there was to negate everything you'd previously learned and previously been told.

And it just about wrecked Rachel.

So she took to New York City. She took to the subway. And then she took to the sidewalk, to a courtyard, and then to the front of Wallach Hall.

It loomed over her, grey and historic and beautiful.

Black iron sconces lined the wall between the iron doors and the windows. A wrought iron railing trailed the edges of the stairs. Tall, arched windows graced the entire front of the eight story building.

414, she remembered.

She took a breath and climbed the stairs to those overwhelming doors. It took more strength than she thought it would take to pull them open. Once inside, the lobby took her over. Stained wooden floors, vaulted ceilings, a glistening chandelier, and a baby grand piano in the corner flanked by a couch and club chairs made up the area.

Extraordinarily beautiful is all she could think to describe it.

"May I help you?"

She turned to the right and a pleasant girl a few years older gave her a smile. It warmed her instantly.

"Yes, I'm visiting a friend."

"Do they know you're coming?"

"Um, no, she doesn't," she smiled meekly. "Is that a problem?"

"Yes. She needs to authorize you in the visitor's log," the girl said and pushed a spiral notebook to the edge of the counter. Rachel walked over to take a look. "You can give her a call to come down and sign it."

"Oh. Well, yeah, I guess…" Rachel muttered. She didn't know what Quinn was up to or where she was or how she was. She didn't want to barge in, but well, that's exactly what she was doing. She sighed and looked down at her phone. Just call her.

"Rach?"

She whipped around to the wrought iron door booming shut. _Her_ blonde stood there, messenger bag swung across her torso and hands in her pockets. She looked just as she had that day back in second period. They day they finally looked at one another after their world crashed.

But today, she looked less weathered yet more tired.

"Quinn," she breathed. "It's you."

"It's me," she smiled and walked over to the counter. "What's going on?"

The counter girl looked back to Rachel. Rachel pointed to Quinn.

"This is my friend. She can authorize."

"What am I authorizing?" Quinn questioned.

"My visitation rights, apparently," Rachel grinned. The brunette behind the counter snickered and pushed the book before Quinn. She grabbed the pencil and signed Rachel's privileges away.

"I didn't know you were visiting," Quinn smiled. "Is everything okay? Are we not on for lunch tomorrow? It's Saturday, we could even go to the park."

She finished signing, sat the pencil down and slid the book back.

"Thanks, Quinn," the girl replied. "You coming to the party later?"

"Eh, not sure," she looked to Rachel. "Kinda depends on this one now."

Rachel's eyes widened and she threw up her hands in surrender. She controlled nothing. Quinn giggled.

"We'll see, Sean. I'll see you later," she laughed, laced her arm through Rachel's and steered them through the lobby to the huge wooden staircase in the center of the back wall. Rachel's eyes wanted to peel around more, take in more of the gorgeous architecture, but they stuck to Quinn.

They always stuck to Quinn.

"You have a baby grand in your dorm lobby," she stated.

"You'll have to play it sometime," Quinn grinned and the feeling of Rachel's arm looped in hers rolled over her. She squeezed tighter and they curved around the first story to ascend the second set of stairs.

"Yeah, maybe," Rachel murmured, recalling each and every music class- er, bootcamp- she'd experienced throughout the week. She didn't want to sing a note, touch an instrument or even talk music.

"You okay?"

"Fine," she said and their shoes clicked and clacked up the wooden lacquered steps. "Your building is beautiful."

"I'm sure it's nothing compared to Juilliard."

"Will you come visit?" Rachel whispered, unsure what the answer would be and not sure why.

"What do you mean, 'will I come visit?' Of course I'm going to come visit! Don't be silly." Rachel sighed and held tighter as they curved around the third floor and ascended once more.

"No elevator?"

"No," she smiled. "I prefer the architecture and history though. And, of course, the baby grand. Every time I walk by it I see you sitting there."

"Really?"

Quinn nodded and they landed on the fourth floor with a huff and a sigh. She dropped Rachel's arm from her elbow and walked down the hall to the left. The hallway seemed to go in a big square on either side as they branched off to the right and came up to room fourteen.

Rachel's eyes found the floor and Quinn took her in; something was a bit different about the girl this afternoon. First, showing up without a call. Second, awkwardly dismissing the piano. And third, she stood there, eyes hung low, shoulders defeated, and hair not styled.

And she didn't wear make up.

"Rachel, what's going on? Why do you look, look, like you don't care?" Quinn stammered. Rachel shot up to meet the inquiring eyes and then followed them down to hear appearance.

She wore jeans and a t-shirt. Her hair fell softly around her shoulders and, she touched her face, so she'd opted out of makeup for the afternoon.

She shrugged, defeated.

"I'm sorry. I can go, go change."

"Oh my god, and now you're apologizing for bumming it for a day. Rach, what the hell? What happened?" she snapped, unlocked her door and forced the weak and weary brunette inside.

The sound of the door slamming shut could've easily been the noise of Rachel's dam erupting. Tears fell instantly and her knees collapsed beneath her. Quinn pushed her a foot further so she'd land on the bed and dropped to her knees in front of her.

"What, why, Rach, are, what happ- come here," she stuttered before simply wrapping her arms around Rachel's waist and hugging her legs tight. Rachel dropped her arms and head down to Quinn's body in her lap and smothered the girl in gripping hands and exhausted tears.

They sat like that for half an hour.

Rachel cried her frustrations out and Quinn provided a place for it.

* * *

><p>By the time there was nothing left to leave her eyes, Quinn's knees burned and Rachel's chest dry heaved. The blonde crawled to her feet, gave a sturdier touch to Rachel's cheek with a smile and then walked to the small sink in the corner.<p>

"Water?"

"Sure."

She clicked on the faucet, poured two glasses and took a seat next to Rachel on her bed. Rachel downed the full glass of water like she hadn't tasted it in years, a fish out of water and hope. She finished and took a steadying breath.

"Speak," Quinn demanded.

"It's hard. It's just really hard."

"What happened?"

"Day one, I got lost. Day two, I got hit on by a guy named Roberto. It took four times before he understood no. Day three, I had to give my intro performance for my stage class and I met the teacher from hell. She thrives on ripping students apart. I also tripped climbing the stairs to the stage," she whimpered and Quinn bit back a grin. "Day four, they took us to the summer program's semester-opening performance of Rent and it was… incredible."

"That's a bad thing?"

"These people are my competition; of course it's a bad thing!"

"Sorry, continue…"

"And day five, today, dad skyped me," she quivered out, a bit too emotional just to be describing a skype call. Quinn gulped.

"And…"

Rachel's face contorted in despair and tears slid down her cheeks.

"And his icon popped up. And it was, it was, it was," she choked out and Quinn cut her off, arms wrapping tightly around her neck.

"Shh, it's okay."

Quinn could visualize the icon perfectly: H and Leroy, hand in hand, smiles blow wide, long black wig on H and thick black mustache with seventies suit on Leroy. They were Sonny and Cher in all their glory on Halloween last year.

Rachel bawled in her arms. She had no words for the girl. What does one say in the situation? Remember the happy times? No.

One says nothing, so she said nothing.

She just held her. She let her cry out her second reserve of tears and then she laid her back on the bed.

Rachel curled into her side and slowly, ever so slowly, let her heart crawl to a rest. It'd been pounding too hard too often and for too many different kinds of reasons. She could feel it losing control and screaming towards that cliff that used to be _right_ there, but now just hovered yards behind her.

She had Quinn to thank for that- and to blame for that in the first place, but that wasn't important anymore. She draped her arm over the blonde's waist and willed herself to relax.

"You're okay," she heard ghost over her ears. Her eyes fluttered shut.

"You'll be okay," she heard again. Her thoughts slowed.

"You're strong," and again.

"You're talented," again.

"You survive."

And then she fell asleep.

* * *

><p>Days at the lake reminded her of vampire movies, in a sense, a weird sense. Okay, so that's weird, but just go with it. During the day, everything was fun, innocent, and playful. They rode the boat, they drove the wave-runners, they tubed in the wake, and they jumped themselves silly on the water trampoline. They were normal.<p>

And then night rolled over them. The parents drank and she and Quinn made themselves scarce. The parents played hearts. She and Quinn played what could we have sex on this time? The parents compared college stories of craziness. She and Quinn compared orgasms. The parents shouted accusations of cheating. She and Quinn shouted for more, faster, and deeper.

They were like rabbits when they were at the lake, really dirty, inappropriate rabbits. Rachel loved the lake because she got to be a rabbit. She got to let loose, be free, and explore without judgment or concern. She got to lie on the deck of Papa Russell's boat at night and watch the stars beam above as his daughter buried her face between her legs.

This is why she loved the lake.

And now, now she laid in the middle of a wet trampoline, the material giving and taking below her as an angel jumped to her right.

Up and down, she jumped. Blonde hair bounced in the sunlight.

Happiness burst like rainbows.

"Racheeeel," she gleefully squealed and bounced higher. Rachel's insides burned with delight. They ached with joy. Her smiled exploded across her face and the material gave and took, gave and took.

"Racccchhheeel," she squealed. It was happiness.

It was pure contentment, the lake.

Like rabbits.

Like white rabbits and-

"Rachel."

And the giving and taking, and the blonde hair, and angels.

"Rach."

Her angel, there was her angel. Those anchors, those lips, those, those anchors.

"Rach, you awake?" she spoke. Awake? "Rach."

"Huh?"

"Wake up, love."

She turned her head and focused her eyes: Quinn's dorm. She turned to her right and found a warm body, the hot body, the other rabbit.

Her insides burned.

Her eyes shot to her hand resting on Quinn's warm stomach, rising and falling with every breath she took. She took a lot. She rasped them out.

Rachel's eyes pulled north and found those anchors again. They pleaded back at her. They flat begged. Begged for what?

She closed her eyes to take a breath.

And she saw Sonny and Cher, like a car on the tracks saw a train.

She yanked her hand off Quinn's stomach and rolled to her back with a much needed intake of breath.

Quinn released the one she'd been holding and sighed, relieved yet disappointed eyes finding the dark wooded ceiling.

"Good dream?" she whispered.

"Kind of."

"What about?"

"The lake," she smirked. She could hear the blonde smiling in return. She never responded. She didn't have to. They both knew what the lake meant. They'd both woken up that one Saturday unable to walk. They'd both been there when silicone entered their relationship with a bang.

They knew what the lake meant.

She didn't need a response because she already had it.

So instead, she trailed her hand from her heart down between them and found Quinn's. She laced their fingers together and squeezed.

It's the best she could do while stretched out shoulder to shoulder next to the blonde. Their eyes mapped lines over the bare ceiling, fingers interlocked, and every emotion threading between them like one big synaptic mess.

She could feel Quinn's want, her fear, her need, her loneliness. She needed distraction. She needed a new topic.

"Were classes-"

"I don't want to talk about classes," Quinn cut her off.

Rachel bit her lips back and nudged herself an inch closer. Their shoulders, hips, thighs, and calves pressed flush. Thoughts swam through her head. If Quinn didn't want to talk classes, what did she want to talk about?

"Do you get a fall break some-"

"I don't want to talk schedules."

Okay, so not that either. Her hand twitched with nerves and her eyes fell from the ceiling to the mahogany walls to the black closet to the white sink to the back desk and lastly back to the ceiling.

"Have you talked to-"

"I don't want to talk about my parents."

Rachel huffed. What _did _Quinn want to talk about? Clearly, Rachel was trying here. She was trying desperately to move them out of her awkward tears into and a normal afternoon, but the stupid blonde wasn't having it.

She twitched her annoyed eyes back around the room, nowhere else to leave them, and landed like a cement block on Quinn's bulletin board.

She saw herself. Well, she saw a drawn version of herself.

She was black, white, and grey on notebook paper. She smiled vibrantly and donned the music note necklace Quinn gave her the day she was accepted to Juilliard last August. And on the entire right side of her face, script flowed freely, some words dark and some words light to give her face the right depth and shadow through its words.

Her breath caught in her throat as she rolled to the right, eyes never leaving it. She brought an elbow up and curved further. She needed to see more. She needed to read those words.

"Rach?"

What did they say? And since when could Quinn draw like _that_?

"Rach, what it is?"

"What, when, what is that?" she asked and stretched out a finger to the bulletin board. Quinn's eyes followed her gaze and landed on the drawing. She flung herself out of bed, grabbed it off the wall and tossed into her desk drawer. She slammed it shut and stepped in front to perch on the edge of the desk. Her arms crossed over her chest and her eyes peeled away.

"What just happened?"

"It's nothing."

"Since when can you draw?"

"I can't."

"I beg to differ. It's amazing."

"It's not."

"What does it say?"

"Nothing."

"Bee."

"_Don't_," Quinn snapped and Rachel gasped in shock. She regretted it instantly. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to bark at you."

"Please, can I?" Rachel whispered. "It's beautiful. Can I see it?"

"I'm, I'm not ready for you to read what's on it."

"I'll pretend I didn't," she smiled and chuckled.

There was the charmer Quinn fell for. Rachel's eyes lit up, her smile exploded and she giddily slid to the edge of the bed.

"Please, pretty please?"

It was useless to fight it. She had Quinn's heart in a vice grip and nothing would ever change that. She had it after they broke up and she'd have it to the grave. So what's there to do but cave? She'd cave for the rest of her life.

"Fine," she murmured and Rachel leapt a good foot off the bed in excitement. "Calm your tiny self." Rachel clapped and grinned. "And calm your tiny hands, too," she muttered and opened the drawer.

The picture stared back at her. Rachel stared back at her. She'd let words flow free from thought earlier in the week during class. She'd let them flow freely out of her and onto Rachel. She didn't know where else to put them. And when her teacher demanded she add words, they're what came out.

And now she'd let Rachel read them. It lurched her stomach into a knot.

She reached down, grabbed the picture and turned to Rachel.

Needy brown eyes beamed back at her.

They were so needy.

Maybe they needed these words, Quinn thought. Maybe they needed them more than Quinn needed to protect them.

Rachel's fingers reached out to take the picture and after giving Quinn an understanding nod, she let her eyes fall to it. Her face was perfectly imagined. Everything from her freckles to the wrinkles around her eyes looked accurate.

"Did you do this from memory?"

"Yes."

She traced a finger over the music note drawn roughly into her neck, her collarbones shaded delicately out to either side. It was beautiful in every sense.

Her eyes fell on the words. They seemed to be phrases, unrelated and oddly punctuated phrases curved across the entire right side of her face like a shadowing mask.

"You read it bottom to top, left to right."

"Oh."

She looked back up to Quinn; those anchors dripped fear freely over her face. Rachel reached out and laced their fingers together before tugging roughly and forcing Quinn down beside her. The blonde's head fell to her shoulder and Quinn let her eyes fall shut, her fingers wrapped tightly in Rachel's and her heart pounded widely.

And then Rachel read:

_It's days like today I miss you. It's hearts like yours that bring me joy. It's kisses like those that make me cry. And it's a love like ours that terrifies me. _

_ We're forever in my head, but apart in my heart. I try to say I'm sorry every day, but your eyes in tears prevent it. I'm to be the rock to your mess that I never was. I'm to be the steady hand to your quivering. _

_ But I'm quivering, too. I'm trembling. I'm shaking. I'm terrified. I need nothing more than I need you. And you need nothing more than steady me. Well I'm not steady. I'm not steady at all. _

_ I may never be. _

_ Because that's what loving you… does to me. _


	23. Chapter 22 HS Junior Year January

January Junior Year

_No, __Ociffer, I have not been drinking._

"We have time!"

"No, we don't."

"We do!"

"No, we don't."

"Baby, yes we do!"

"No, we do not."

"Come on. Let me put my fingers in you," Rachel groaned and pushed Quinn back into the bedroom wall. Quinn kicked off it, kissed Rachel, and they slammed into the opposite wall.

"We don't have time for that," she grunted and pulled Rachel's tongue into her mouth.

"I could have already had my fingers in you."

"You're so vulgar."

"You love it," Rachel growled and kicked off her wall. They shuffled and tripped and slammed back into Quinn's.

"Shit, that hurt," she moaned.

"_I_ could hurt you," Rachel purred. Quinn shook her head and bit down on Rachel's plump bottom lip. She yelped in pain.

"Looks like _I_ hurt _you_."

"My insides are on fire. Come on, please? One touch."

"You're insatiable."

"It's been a week!"

"And?"

"And, and," Rachel blinked dubiously, "isn't it obvious? That's too long!"

"It's been six days," Quinn laughed and kicked off her wall. They stumbled back, Rachel's hands gripping and fondling anything they could find, and slammed into the opposite wall.

Rachel's head hit it with a thud and she froze. Oh, she felt loopy.

Her eyes rolled back.

Her tongue snaked out over her lip.

And Quinn watched. Lord, she watched. And then she couldn't take it. She stepped inches closer, dragged her body against Rachel's, laid her tongue flat against the girl's neck and pulled it north.

"Ohhhh my," Rachel moaned. "You're addictive. You're amazingly hot. You're like, Maxim hot. Like, oh god, do it again."

Quinn dragged her breasts up Rachel's front and pulled her tongue up as well, starting from the dip in her shirt and heading to the lobe of her ear.

"Lower," Rachel begged.

Quinn smirked and dropped lower, this time starting between Rachel's legs. She placed a wet kiss on the skin peaking out the hem of her shirt, pressed her breasts against Rachel's thighs and sex and then slid up, ever so slowly grinding herself against her girlfriend.

Her nails clawed Rachel's sides on their way up and this time, she took the girl's shirt with her. She pulled her body over Rachel's bare skin, bra, and then landed their lips together.

Rachel didn't kiss back.

Quinn arched back to see why and laughed at what she found: Rachel's jaw gaped open, eyes clenched shut and cheeks burned red.

She leaned forward, took the lip between her teeth and bit down roughly. Rachel moaned, whimpered and collapsed against the wall a bit further. Quinn grinned like mad, thoroughly impressed with her affect on her girlfriend. She smirked with new thoughts, turned around, shucked her jacket off and then leaned back into Rachel.

She dropped low again and then dragged up, swirling her ass into Rachel's thighs, crotch and hips.

"Oh… _shit_," Rachel mewed. "I'm such an ass girl."

"Mouth," Quinn warned and lulled her head back to rest on Rachel's shoulder as she grinded into her.

"Yes, mouth. Mouth. Put it somewhere, anywhere."

Quinn giggled and grabbed Rachel's wandering hands. She brought them up, kissed each palm wetly and then pressed them to her breasts.

Rachel took over.

She squeezed roughly, feeling for peaks and finding them, but not finding them enough. She needed more, she always needed more. She dragged her hands down, slipped them under Quinn's shirt and clawed back up her stomach to her bra.

"It's front clasp," Quinn rasped.

Rachel found it instantly. She flicked it open and grabbed bare skin. Both their heads hung forward with moans. She buried her face in blonde hair, tugged on Quinn's nipples and rocked her hips when the blonde's hands snuck back to grip her ass, pulling her even closer.

"Told you we had time," Rachel taunted. Quinn rolled her eyes and rocked back into her girlfriend.

"Your fingers aren't inside me."

"They could be."

"So then what are you waiting for?"

Rachel snapped a hand off Quinn's breasts and ripped her jeans open. She threw the zipper down and shoved her hand under Quinn's thong. Her fingers found a pool of wetness and Quinn lost her footing in the joy of it all. She collapsed back into Rachel with a yelp of pleasure.

The tiny creature was no match for dead weight Quinn. They rocked into the wall, no arms free to balance, and awkwardly collapsed down it. Quinn's side table broke their fall. Their legs smashed it and sent the lamp teetering to its side and then shattering to the floor.

They slammed onto the ground after it and froze.

"Don't… move," Rachel panted, one hand still soaked in Quinn and the other gripping a breast. "There's glass under us." She arched to get a better look and her fingers moved ever so slightly.

"Don't," Quinn groaned.

Rachel stopped and looked at the blonde hair in front of her.

"Don't what?"

"Don't take them out," she pleaded under her breath, embarrassed more than anything. She could feel Rachel grinning. She could _see_ the smirk. She could hear the smugness wafting into the air behind her.

And then she could feel those fingers. They twitched, and then shifted, and then pulled, and then slid all the way through her.

"Yesss," Quinn hissed.

"You have to be still. Perfectly still," Rachel warned and swirled around the bud already hardening beneath her touch. She loved that. She'd touched it once and was hooked. She was addicted the second she saw it.

"Okay," Quinn gulped. She stilled herself and prayed she had enough willpower to make it out of this experience without being sliced and diced. She could feel pieces of glasses beneath her. She could feel them under her ass, legs, hands, and feet.

Rachel could feel them just the same, but not as much as she felt Quinn. She felt soaked folds, clenching muscles and a trembling abdomen. She placed two fingers over Quinn and picked up her pace.

"Go in," she panted.

"I can't," Rachel whispered, placing a kiss to the mussed hair in her face. "I'm afraid it'll be too much movement. I'll never get… you know… that way if I can't move at all," she said and tightened up her circles.

Quinn's thighs clenched and she steeled herself. Be a rock, be a rock. Her hands wanted to fist. Her legs wanted to shake. Her arms wanted to reach up to lace behind Rachel's head. But they couldn't.

She had to lay there and take it. Take it like a dog playing dead. It intensified it all the more. Her clenched muscles burned hotter and tingled. And those tingles ricocheted back between her legs to tingle with the tingles Rachel created and lavished. It was one big swirling domino-ing tingle.

And it was happening with her bedroom door open.

She looked at the clock by her bed: 10:23pm, an hour and a half until New Year's celebrations.

"Quinnberry! Rachelbray!" Judy wailed from the hall.

"Oh no."

"She's drunk. Already," Rachel groaned and swirled her fingers faster, applying more pressure and randomly dragging completely up Quinn's slit. She liked mixing it up. She found it drove the girl insane.

Of course, she couldn't tell at the moment. Steel Horse Quinn was hard to read, but the sweat pouring down her neck and the trembling in her shoulders and clenching between her legs told Rachel she was doing good, really good, even though her forearm burned like a wild fire.

"Stop, baby," Quinn whispered. "My Mom's out there."

"You don't sound very serious about that request," Rachel picked up her pace and Quinn's head dropped back and slammed into the wall over her shoulder. Rachel chuckled and dipped in to drag her tongue over her neck.

"I'm not; I'm just voicing it so if we get caught I can say I told you so."

"You're sweet," Rachel grunted and dropped her fingers south, pushed into Quinn once, twice, and then dragged her wetness back up where she continued her circling.

"Oh shit. Oh shit. Oh shit."

"Mouth, baby," Rachel purred and sucked on the muscles bulging from the blonde's neck.

"Girls! You up there?" Judy shouted again.

"Three, ugh, three seconds and she's up, up, oh yes, up the stairs and around the corner."

"You're the one with your legs spread," Rachel murmured.

"Finish me."

"Trying. It's only my second time," she pouted and bit the sweaty skin under her lips. Quinn yelped, hips thrusting up into Rachel.

They froze at the sudden movement.

"I told you not to move."

"Girls!"

"You bit me."

"There's a party going onnnn!"

"I couldn't help it."

"I couldn't either."

"We have confettttti!"

Rachel picked up her fingers again, swirling faster and trying to stay in control through the extreme slickness between her girl's legs.

"You're drenched."

"For you."

"I love this sex stuff," Rachel moaned and kissed behind her ear. She swirled faster and faster, Quinn's quads visibly trembling and her breath panting out of control.

"Like… wise," she groaned and Rachel narrowed her circling in tighter and tighter. She could feel the heat wafting off Quinn. Her fingertips burned. Her forearm ached. Her head swam with need from her own needs pounding between her legs against Quinn's lower back.

She moaned into the blonde's hair, placing kisses over her burning head. She pushed harder and harder, circling heaven between Quinn's legs.

"Girls!"

"Coming!" they shouted.

And then Quinn did. She steeled her limbs and let loose, a near invisible orgasm rocketing through her body. Stay steady, stay steady, stay steaaaaddy. It rushed over her, pounding from the center out and sweat dripped down her neck.

When Rachel's tongue laved out to catch it, it sent after-shocks surging through her body and over her clit, taking her trembling and tingling and shuddering to another level she couldn't handle.

She pulled her hand off the floor and smacked it over Rachel's to stop it and realized she had glass stuck to her sweaty palm. They froze, eyes on their hands.

"You just hit me with a glass paw."

"Just… don't move."

"Yeah, look how that worked out," Rachel huffed with a chuckle. Quinn slowly peeled her hand off Rachel's and shook the glass off to the side.

"How are we doing this?" she asked, looking at the glass beneath them and around them.

"You and your glass paw can stand up and then clear a safe path for me," Rachel chirped and placed a kiss to Quinn's ear.

"How convenient."

"Who just had the orgasm?"

"Touché."

After carefully, oh so carefully, detaching themselves from each other and the glass-stricken floor, they cleaned up and bounded down the stairs, Quinn chirpier than ever and Rachel frustrated beyond belief.

Judy thrust two red cups into their hands and smiled joyfully.

"Happy almost New Year! Here's some more!"

Their eyes widened, they looked at each other and then to their glasses. They found more bright green liquid glowing back at them. Puck smirked in the background.

"What?" Judy asked.

"It's not… alcoholic?" Rachel stammered.

"You're seventeen years old. Do _you_ think it's alcoholic?"

Rachel looked at Quinn, the blonde shrugged. Surely there was a right answer here. Surely this was in the manual for how to deal with your girlfriend's mother.

"I'm going to say no…" Rachel guessed. Judy beamed.

"I knew you were a good egg," she boasted and fluttered off into the crowd.

Who all these people were in her house, Quinn had no idea. She reached to the right, grabbed Rachel's hand for comfort and then wandered through the party.

Glee kids played games in the living room, adults chatted in the dining room and random people scattered throughout the rest of the rooms, hallways, and staircases. Nights like that, Quinn hated that her house was so big and her mother's parties were even bigger.

"Wanna get some air?" she whispered to Rachel.

"Rach! Come join us!" Puck hollered from the den, stood and jogged down the hall to them.

"Quinn! Haul your creature in here and play with us," Santana added and the brunette seethed. She liked Quinn's idea better. She liked air. She liked air where she could breathe and Quinn could breathe and also, _touch her_.

What?

Don't judge her.

"I'm good for air," Rachel said.

"We'll be outside, guys!" Quinn hollered and they walked out the back door to the deck. The pool glistened with an ice lid below and the stars glistened above.

Rachel smiled; this was definitely more like it.

She moved for one of the chairs around the outdoor table and Quinn stopped her. She stepped in front of her, pulled out a chair and sat down.

"Rude," Rachel groaned.

Quinn rolled her eyes, reached out to Rachel and pulled her into her lap.

"You sit on me this time," she whispered and placed a light kiss to her cheek. Rachel blushed and took a large swig of her drink to keep her hands and lips occupied.

"Sorry I said you're rude," she whispered after licking her lips clean.

"Apology accepted."

Rachel looked out over Quinn's gorgeous backyard. The moon lit the trees and they swayed in the wind. It was utterly beautiful and perfect, yummy drink in hand and Quinn beneath her.

The blonde shifted to get more comfortable and Rachel's legs split either side of her thigh. She immediately felt the heat emanating from between them. Rachel was hot, probably wet, and extremely turned on.

"Rach," she whispered.

The brunette turned over her shoulder to look at Quinn. She licked her lips, locked her hazel eyes on Rachel and then rocked her hips up. Rachel gasped, shot a glare to the door to check for any voyeurs and then took another swig of her drink.

"People could see."

"Do you care? Touch me," Quinn demanded. Rachel's hands clenched around her glass and her eyes shot to the door. Glee kids sat right on the other side of the glass panes, backs to the deck, but they had necks! They could turn around.

She clenched her glass harder.

"Put your lips on me," Quinn added.

Rachel put her mouth to work… on her drink.

"We can't."

"What happened when I said that we can't upstairs?"

"Um, you had an orgasm and we destroyed a lamp."

"So how about we destroy you this time?" Quinn grinned and rocked up again. Rachel gulped, took another drink and steadied herself. She felt, she felt, so hot. She felt so dizzied sitting on Quinn's lap.

She was light headed with need.

She turned to the blonde. Those bright eyes smiled.

"I love you," she murmured and Quinn grinned.

"You're really turned on, aren't you?"

"Unbelievably. I'm all dizzy and needy and clingy and wow, the pool is shiny," she gasped.

Quinn cocked an eyebrow and followed the girl's enraptured gaze down to the pool.

"It has lights, it's always shiny, Rach."

"It's just… glistening, like Broadway!"

"Broadway has lights, too."

"Such shiny lights, right?" she grinned and finished her drink. "God, that's good. What is it?"

"Probably her Goblin Juice. She made it one Halloween when I was five and I loved it so much that she started using it for all parties after that. It's pure sugar."

"No wonder I feel dizzy."

"You feel dizzy?"

"Mm, maybes a bit," Rachel said and lay back into Quinn.

Maybes a bit? Did she just say maybes a bit?

Oh, no. She craned forward and looked through the window panes. Her eyes landed hard on Puck peering through the room and pane and directly at them. He smirked and gave her a wink.

Ohh, no.

She grabbed Rachel's glass and ran her tongue along the inside rim.

It tasted like rum, definitely rum. _Two_ glasses of rum, that would be.

"Rach, you feel okay? That's your second, right?" she asked and arched around to look at the girl's face. A dreamy smile plastered over her lips.

"I freel perfect."

Oh, no.

"Rach, have you ever, um, had alcohol before? Ever?" Quinn stammered. The brunette's eyes wandered aimlessly over the night sky, the deck, the trees, the pool, and would randomly settle hard on Quinn: the only place they seemed to find focus.

"I have not. I do not drink. It lowers ones inhibitions and that's how you get pregnant and _die_," she said.

Ohhh, no.

"I think they put something in your drinks, baby. Can you sit up?"

"Of course I can sit up! I only had two cups total," Rachel argued, flung herself up and never stopped. She flew forward and landed hard on her hands and knees.

Quinn's head fell to her hands.

This was not going to be good. What the hell was she to do with a tipsy Rachel Berry? She couldn't take her back inside, that's for sure. She looked out over the dark snowy yard; that wouldn't be safe. And then she looked to the shiny pool; that definitely wouldn't be safe. And then her eyes landed on the swing between the trees in the far corner of the yard; that would be perfect.

She stood up and craned down to yank Rachel to her feet. She yelped and laughed as Quinn hauled her up.

"Oh wow, you're strong!" Rachel cooed.

"I know. I break lamps."

"Tres strong," she said and wrapped an arm around Quinn's waist. The blonde gripped her side and they walked down the stairs.

There went her first romantic and fun New Year's with Rachel. It floated away and never looked back.

"Let's get you to the swing."

"Swings are fun! Is it shiny?"

"Not everything is shiny, Rachel, Christ."

"Christ is definitely not shiny. Historically, Jesus wore sandals and very modest burlap style wraps."

"That's accurate information," Quinn muttered and they walked through the yard towards the swing. Rachel stopped with a gasp.

"_He_ could've used a bedazzler!"

"Who?"

"Jesus Christ!"

"Oh god," Quinn groaned, grabbed Rachel's arm and continued their journey.

"Just imagine how much shinier his sandals could've been, Beed."

"Beed?"

"It's your name."

"You added a d."

"I did not."

"You are so on your way to drunk."

"I'm fined!"

"You added another d."

Rachel huffed and collapsed into the swing. It propelled three feet back and she squealed with childlike euphoria over claps.

"Wee! It's like a coaster roller!"

Quinn couldn't believe her luck. New Year's Eve, the one holiday she's allowed to mack on her girlfriend in public and she'd been banished to the swing because the hobbit was tipsy.

"Roller coaster," she stated and watched the girl swing happily. Maybe she'd swing enough to throw up and then real Rachel would return.

"Come here, baby. Come sit with meeee," she begged. Quinn gripped the swing, slowed it to a stop and sat down beside the slurring girl.

"I can't believe two drinks got you tipsy so quick."

"I may have had three. Puck gave me one while you were playing charades before… you know… upstairs. Lucky number three is my nuuumber. I also have no tolerance. Just like the law!"

Quinn hung her head. It was going to be a long night.

And an hour later, she still hung her head.

"…because you see, if we got a scooter, we could get a side car. And then you could wear goggles and we could drive it 'round the town without any harm nors foul! It would be so much fun, baby! Can you imagine me on a scooter? Me! Like Hevel Kneival!"

"Evel Kneival."

"What'd I say?" she stuttered.

"It's not important," Quinn groaned. "What time is it?"

"Celebrities do not wear watches."

She groaned again and pulled out her phone: 11:51pm, nine minutes until 2010 rolled in without a bang. She looked over to the brunette; she was staring off into the sky, smiling and tracing constellations with her finger.

Even drunk she was adorable.

"I love you," Quinn said.

Rachel whipped to her, her eyes following a few seconds later. Quinn fought the urge to laugh.

"And I you," Rachel grinned. "Heeeey, tell me somethin…"

"What?"

"No, like, tell me somethin."

"Oh. Okay. Let's see…" Quinn murmured and leaned back into Rachel. The brunette draped her arm around her shoulder and pulled her close. It was the most comfortable Quinn had been all night, minus the rum breath.

Rachel closed her eyes and let her head lull back onto the wooden swing. The fresh air blew over her and did wonders for her spinning head. It felt like, like, like what she thought massive applause might feel like. It rolled over her and suddenly she felt very tired.

"Do you think we'll get married?" Quinn asked, going with her gut and feeling okay about possibly taking advantage of the girl's mental capacity.

"Yes."

"Really?"

"Mhmm," she whispered.

"Are you falling asleep?" Quinn snapped and looked at her phone: 11:56pm. "You need to make it four more minutes!" She sat up, turned in to Rachel and gave her cheeks a few pops. Rachel snapped her head up and smiled dreamily.

"You're pretty."

"You are, too. I need you to stay awake. I need you to kiss me in four minutes. Can you kiss?"

"I can always kiss you. I'll kiss you frever."

"I hope so. I hope you kiss me… frever," Quinn smiled and pulled her legs up to sit Indian style. "Come here," she whispered and pulled Rachel's legs up and around to mirror her. The girl lulled sideways into the back of the swing and leaned forward.

"You're so drunk," Quinn snickered.

"I didn't mean to be."

"I know, baby. I think Puck did it for laughs."

"Noah! He's my bro!"

"Did you seriously just say bro?" Quinn laughed and checked her phone: 11:57pm. God, time passed slowly when you were waiting on a kiss from a drunk person.

"You think he'd take us on his arc," she murmured and her eyes fluttered shut. Her forehead fell forward and connected with Quinn's.

"Ow," Quinn groaned and Rachel sighed.

"You're comfy. And I'm sorry I broke your lamp," she whispered.

"We broke my lamp and it was very worth it."

"Yeah?" she mumbled. "Second time was good?"

"Amazing, love. You're amazing," Quinn whispered, brushed her lips over Rachel's and then checked her phone: 11:58pm.

"I'd marry you. And I'd prose, too."

"Propose?"

"What'd I say?"

"Nothing, go on," Quinn encouraged, thoroughly intrigued. Like she told Fred, she always thought she'd be the one proposing when and if life took them there. And here honest to a fault Rachel said she'd do it.

"I always pictured, like, candles. Maybe roses. D'like roses, baby?"

"I do, love."

"And I'd get down on one knee, too. Both if you wanted. I'll do it now. Wanna marry me?" she mumbled, eyes shut, shoulders swaying, and head bobbling. She was perfect, in every sense.

Quinn checked her phone: 11:59pm.

"Rachel," she whispered.

"Mmm?"

"One minute til midnight."

"That mean we can sleep now?" she grumbled.

"No, it means you have sixty seconds before you have to kiss me… and mean it."

"But I'm… I'm tired," she whispered and her head lulled south, south, south, and then jerked back up.

"Stay awake, look at me," Quinn gave her cheeks a few pops and those big eyes pulled open. Those big, blood shot, unfocused eyes pulled open. Oh, poor Rachel. "You're beautiful."

"Mm, I know. I try hard to be pretty for you. D'like lilies, baby?"

"I do, love."

"Maybe I'll prose with lilies. When we're twenty seven and our creers have flurshed."

"Okay, love. Twenty seven and our careers have flourished."

"What'd I say?" Rachel mumbled.

"Nothing. You said it right. All of it," she smiled and looked to the house. Commotion began, chanting began, and cheering began.

She looked back to Rachel, her heart pounding with love for the disheveled girl in front of her.

Her head lulled south again, slowly. The house chanted down from ten, nine, and eight… Rachel's head lulled further and stopped, hanging low and out cold.

"Rach?" Quinn whispered.

Six, and five, and four…

"Rach?" she said louder.

Three…

"Rachel."

Two…

"_Baby_?" she pleaded and shook her. Rachel flopped around in her hold as the house erupted in cheers and singing. Quinn picked up her head and stared at that adorable dead face. She ran her thumbs over Rachel's cheek bones, down her jaw and over her mouth.

"You're so, so beautiful."

And then she leaned forward and placed a soft kiss on her lips. She let it linger, taking in the New Year's in her head and hoping Rachel would remember it in the morning. She'd be upset, furious, and livid that she missed it. She'd been talking about it for weeks: her first new year's kiss with anyone.

And now Quinn had to give it to her unconscious like a creepy old guy working at the morgue. She loathed Puck. She loathed alcohol.

But she _loved_ Rachel. She kissed her harder.

And then those lips moved. They pulled open and dragged across Quinn's. Fireworks shot through the blonde. She grinned madly against Rachel and tilted her head to rain kisses over her properly. They burned into each other, pulling over each other's mouths, needing more, feeling more, and begging for more.

Quinn locked a hand around Rachel's neck and shifted to her knees. She opened her mouth wider and Rachel gave her that tongue. She languidly slipped into Quinn and the blonde pushed further, laying Rachel back into the arm. The swing shook awkwardly beneath them and Rachel gripped her waist for control, for necessity, for no reason. She pulled Quinn down onto her and kissed her deeper.

She didn't know where they were, what they were doing or if it was right, but man was it right. When you wake up to Quinn Fabray kissing you, you don't stop. You give her everything she wants and more. So Rachel did. She gave her everything even if she felt like she couldn't control anything she was doing.

Why couldn't she control anything she was doing?

Why, why was she, why was the world rocking back and forth and-

Rachel turned to dead weight Quinn's hands. She gasped for air and pulled back; Rachel's head dropped back through the chains in the swing and her hands fell to her sides.

Out again.

Quinn sighed, calmed her insides and planted a sweet kiss to that shivering exposed neck. She knocked snow out of the girl's hair and smiled at her. So, so beautiful she was.

She sat back down on her side of the swing and looked to the house. The party still flourished loudly.

_When we're twenty seven and our careers have flourished._

She'd never remember it in the morning.

That wasn't right, by any means. She hopped off the swing and jogged through the yard to the gazebo by the pool. Games, drinks, and trash littered the table from earlier in the night.

She sloshed items around until she found what she was looking for and then trudged back out to the swing. Rachel sat sideways, Indian style, with her head craned all the way back between the chains attached to the armrest. Her mouth gaped open and her hair sloshed in the wind. She was quite a sight, quite an amusing and adorable sight.

Quinn sat down beside her, grabbed her hand and wrote:

_You got your New Year's kiss. It was perfect and everything you were hoping for. Don't be sad you don't remember. Also, you proposed to me. I expect a repeat when we're twenty-seven and our careers have flourished (your words). I love you. Bee._

She kissed the text scribbled up Rachel's hand and wrist and then leaned back in the swing after threading their fingers together. Music pounded, the swing rocked, the stars twinkled, and Rachel snored.

And Quinn couldn't imagine a more perfect New Year's Eve.


	24. Chapter 23 Fall Freshman Year of College

**Hey ladies (and gents, I suppose)! I'm glad you're all adoring the story just as I do. I love reading your thoughts and I think it's easy for writers to say comments make them want to write faster and post more, but my story is done and therefore that doesn't matter. :) So um, I'll just say I love hearing what you think. I love seeing you try work things out (and fail lol). So thanks for all the remarks. This is one of maybe three or so that you'll get today. **

**ENJOY! XO Dylan**

* * *

><p>Fall Freshman Year of College<p>

_The Radio Just Broke. The RADIO Just Broke!_

Buildings said a lot in New York City; they screamed pretention; they boasted history; they frightened strangers upon first glance; they curbed a fear of dreams with small comfort and subtleties.

Rachel loved buildings that curbed her fears, she'd learned. When she walked down Broadway and felt nothing but overwhelming terror, she knew she needed other buildings. Right _now_, she needed other buildings.

Like here in Brooklyn, she walked into the Community Center and was greeted by a disheveled man with a cardigan tossed over her shoulders. Here, she felt no fear.

She felt larger than life.

She held her chin high, strutted through the dusty lobby and presented herself to him: Rachel Berry, _talent you must have_. She flashed her bombastic smile and he stepped back, one hand in the air for pause and eyes raking over her small form.

"And what pray tell might you be, little thing?"

"I'm your new lead."

"Oh is that so," he gasped with a giggle and turned back to his counter full of papers. Organization was not his strong point, especially four weeks before their opening show of the season.

"It is," she stated without falter.

"Auditions start at four. Fill out a sheet, get a number and come back."

"I'm singing for you now."

He stopped his meanderings at that.

And for some reason, it impressed him. He let his papers flutter to the desk and turned back to her. His eyes narrowed and she willed herself not to blink. He fought to intimidate her and she fought for a chance. Neither broke for seconds, seconds longer than he had to play that little game.

"One song, one chance. You nail it, it's yours."

"Consider it mine," she boasted, swiveled on her heel and stormed towards the auditorium doors, leaving the stunned director in her wake. He shook his head and chuckled.

The theater never failed to surprise him... even after thirty years.

* * *

><p>When Quinn's phone went off that afternoon, she expected it to be Rachel. She expected the results of her audition. She expected and hoped for the best. She just didn't expect it to be hours before she was actually expecting it. She didn't expect it while in the middle of a job interview.<p>

And now, her could-be, elderly woman boss squinted disdainful eyes at her as she fumbled through her bag for the shrieking cell phone. She wanted to kill the girl.

"Miss Fabray."

_Fred. _

"Sorry, ma'am, sorry!" she found the phone, silenced it and shoved it back in her bag. "I apologize."

She sat with an air of pretention and power behind the huge mahogany desk while sneering back at her. It churned her insides. She reminded herself how badly she needed a job. She reminded herself of the hours she spent in her dorm room missing Rachel, wondering what Rachel was doing, guessing if she would come over that day, and touching herself while thinking of how Rachel looked.

She _desperately_ needed a job, friends, anything.

"Tell me why you should be our new intern here at Ford & Gunder."

Quinn swallowed her fear, remembered she was a Fabray, an HBIC Fabray, and smiled at that scary woman.

"Because I love books, plain and simple."

"Nothing is ever plain and simple, dear."

"To me, books are. They were my escape during childhood, they provided distraction during my adolescence, and they intensified my love during high school. And now, in college, they comfort me. To me, books are plain and simply everything."

The woman stared at her over her light rimmed glasses. Quinn could see the wheels cranking behind her scary, grey eyes. What they cranked over, though, Quinn didn't know. How did interns normally answer that question? Was she original or mundane? Childish or passionate? One of a kind or one of a million?

She gulped and the voluptuous, Farah Faucet wannabe sat up and perched her elbows on her desk, eyeing Quinn even harder.

"Where are you from?"

"Lima, Ohio."

"What it's like there?"

"Stifling… yet magical."

She erupted in raspy chuckles, pulled her glasses off and tossed them to the desk. Quinn bit her bottom lip nervously and Farah leaned back in her chair with a sigh.

"No one ever calls their hometown magical after they move to New York City, Miss Fabray."

Was that a good thing or a bad thing?

"I adore my parents. I found rare love. I kept loyal friends," she shrugged. "Call it Leave it to Beaver if you must, but it's the truth."

"Why did you come to New York City then? Tell me that."

"Why does everyone come to the city? They crave more. They have dreams. They come to New York to accomplish them."

"And what's your dream, Miss Fabray, career wise?"

"I want to be an editor."

"That's a big dream."

"I think it's reachable," Quinn stated.

"Are you a writer?"

"No. I read. I'm a reader."

Farah grinned over the pen she swirled around the edge of her mouth and raked her eyes over the blonde. Quinn pinched hands in her lap over an airy green skirt to inch out the trembles.

"One last question," she finally grinned.

"Yes, ma'am."

"What's your favorite thing about this magical hometown of yours?"

Quinn relaxed and smiled, because in that moment, she knew she'd impressed the woman. She'd be getting the internship. She'd be landing her first real job at a major publishing company in New York City, even if she did have to start in the basement reading horrible submissions and sorting by quality. It sounded like heaven in a hole to her.

"My mailman, ma'am. My mailman is my favorite thing about my hometown."

* * *

><p>"Rachel Berry!" she hollered into her phone as she stormed out of the glass revolving door and into the loud, chaotic street. Her eyes snapped to the street sign: 91st.<p>

91st would be her new home. She grinned larger than she'd grinned in months and jogged north. Her insides fluttered, her cheeks hurt from smiling, and her head pounded with excitement.

"Rachel Berry, answer your phooone," she screamed into the voicemail and slammed it shut. She shoved it into her bag and beamed.

A job, she got a job! She'd have money coming in! Very little, but still! And she'd get to read books in a basement and talk about Fred to her impressed Farah Faucet boss and life was just so, so good! Kind of.

Her phone shrieked in her bag and she jolted to a stop. Phone, phone, phone, where was it? She dug and dug, ripped it out and stared at the screen: an adorable sixteen year old Rachel Berry stretched out in the grass and smiling for days screamed back at her.

Her heart danced.

She clicked answer and pressed it to her ear.

"Quinn Fabrrraaay!"

"Rachel Berry!"

"Oh my god, guess what?" they both shrieked and then stopped.

"You go!" they said.

"Sorry," they said again with laughs.

"Stop-"

"You-"

"Rachel!" Silence. "You go."

"Okay, I'll go! I got the part!" Rachel shrieked and Quinn jumped a foot in the air with a shrill. Suited strangers and angry New Yorkers stared her down as they rushed past her on the sidewalk. Sneers for being in the way dropped at her feet with every other stranger. She threw up an apologetic hand and stepped inside to lean against the building.

"I am so proud of you!"

"It was your idea! Start small, feel big. It was so right, Quinn. It was so, so right. I'm coming to Wallach. I'm on my way right now."

"Yes! Come! Because guess what?"

"You got it? You got the internship?"

"I did! I'm a professional reader, Rachel!" she wailed and swiped away a happy tear.

"You've always been a professional reader, but look! You'll get paid now. I knew you'd get it."

"I know you did. I knew it the second you left the clipped ad in my bag. You're kinda perfect sometimes, you know that, right?"

Silence fell over them with slight breaths dancing in the air.

"Where are you?" Rachel asked.

Quinn looked up and around.

"Umm… 97th. Why?"

"Stay there," she chirped and the line went dead. Quinn laughed in disbelief and slid down the brick wall to sit gingerly on the sidewalk below. She crossed her legs and tossed her bag over her lap.

Fifteen minutes later, one Miss Rachel Berry stood across the intersection waiting for her walk sign. Quinn's eyes locked on the beaming girl and she stood.

Rachel wore a beanie hat, a striped overcoat and the biggest smile she'd ever seen. Quinn lit up with her _lit up because of Rachel Berry_ smile.

It'd been months.

The light turned and Rachel sprinted across the intersection, over the curb and straight into her arms. She shrieked with excitement and Quinn wrapped her up.

They hugged with pure happiness pouring from every inch, gripping each other and pawing anywhere they could, each glowing from the inside out. Nothing was enough, why was nothing ever enough?

She squeezed tighter.

Rachel shrieked louder.

Hands wrapped around waists, then necks.

Smiles burned into shoulders, then hair.

Lips kissed hair, then cheeks, and then mouths.

Mouths.

They were kissing.

Oh my god, they were kissing. She froze, lips against Rachel's and not a clue what to do. Rachel stilled in her arms as well.

She took a scared breath.

And then there was pressure, slow and steady pressure.

Quinn leaned into it, letting the kiss become an actual kiss and deciding it wasn't time to think twice. She was always thinking twice.

Today it stopped.

She dragged her fingers through the strands of Rachel's hair and finished their soft kiss with a pull to her bottom lip. It rolled over them with familiar comfort. Familiarity won everything. It's all they needed.

When she finally cracked her eyes open, Rachel's followed slowly.

And their mouths exploded with smiles they used to pray for.

"I love you," Rachel whispered with a shrug. "Whatever that means, I don't know. I just know I love you and I'm so thankful for you."

Quinn nodded, her heart meekly needing every word Rachel gave her.

"My professional little book reader," she added.

"I'm surprised you're even talking to me," Quinn giggled, looped her arm in Rachel's and started them north.

"Why would I not talk to you?" Rachel gasped.

"Big theater star and all."

Rachel laughed with elation and pride, gripped the steadying arm harder and strolled along the New York City streets with her love.

* * *

><p>"When do you start?" Quinn asked, tossed her a bottle of water, and bounced onto the bed next to her.<p>

"Tomorrow," she grinned, eyes dancing over the drawing on Quinn's bulletin board. She thought back to weeks ago when she'd found it. She'd broken down over the drawing. It had four crinkled circles over her shoulders now; not even dried tears could ruin the picture.

It was her favorite thing of Quinn's. It turned them on a new path. It set their worries free. It cleared the muddy air. Well, it cleared some of it.

They still hadn't talked, really talked. And that was fine with Rachel. She didn't need a big conversation, she didn't think. Like Quinn said months ago, they could talk as they went. And slowly, they did.

They made adjustments, they pushed each other. Quinn encouraged her to fix her confidence issue by engaging small side projects that reminded her of high school without being high school. And Rachel dropped ads in Quinn's bag for jobs she knew the blonde would enjoy. She needed out of her dorm.

She was never out of her dorm.

And look at them now; employed and cast.

"I'm proud of you," Rachel murmured and sipped on the water.

"I'm proud of you, too."

Silence fell over them again..

"Um, in the street, I'm not sure what…"

"Me either," Quinn whispered and let her eyes find the floor. She wanted nothing more than to kiss Rachel every minute of every day but that answered nothing. Right? Didn't that answer nothing?

It sure felt nice.

"Are we going to do that?" Rachel asked.

Quinn gulped.

"Do what?"

"Kiss each other… regularly."

"Seems to just kind of happen."

"What does that mean, though?" Rachel sighed and shimmied back on the bed to rest against the wall. Quinn pulled her legs up, rotated and looked at the confused girl.

"I don't know. What do you want it to mean?"

"I don't know?" Rachel shrugged.

Hazel eyes turned heavy and moved over hers; all the words neither would say came through clear as day. Her chest grew with much needed air and Quinn exhaled more for her. She wanted to drag her eyes down the blonde's body, rememorize everything she'd forgotten- which was nothing.

"I'm just so ecstatic right now and I have you to thank," Rachel whispered. "And I, I don't know how to thank you."

Not even a second passed before she knew.

"Come here," Quinn murmured and stayed put. Rachel would have to come. She shifted across the bed, across the spare foot between them, and her shins sidled up to Quinn's. Their knees kissed and hands found the others.

Words failed Rachel. So did eye contact. And air. And control.

She swallowed her fears and unresolved thoughts and much needed conversation.

"Done," she whimpered out with no idea of what else to say.

Quinn brought her eyes up to the frightened browns before her.

"Look at me," she whispered.

Those eyes crawled their way up and locked on their anchors.

Her breath caught.

Quinn reached forward and undid Rachel's top coat button. And then the next. And then the next. Slowly, she worked her way down as she watched every emotion under the sun flash over those endless brown circles.

What would it mean? What were they doing? What was Quinn doing?

But god, don't stop.

Quinn reached the bottom, took a breath, and then slid the coat off her shoulders. She grabbed the hem of Rachel's t-shirt and pulled it over her head. She slid the beanie off her hair and luscious locks fell around bare skin.

Rachel trembled all over.

"Do you remember that night at Puck's sophomore year?" Quinn whispered and leaned forward, laying Rachel back onto the bed. Their legs detangled, straightened and tangled back up in each other. The brunette nodded shyly.

"Yes."

"Nothing more, okay?" Quinn promised and reached between them. She unhooked Rachel's skirt, and her own, and both shimmied them off. Rachel reached for Quinn's blouse and pulled it over her head. Blonde hair fell like a curtain around their faces and near-bare bodies came back together.

Rachel had no thoughts.

Well she had a thousand, but none made any sense. None fit together.

None turned into words.

So she let it happen. She reached down and pulled Quinn's underwear off her. Then she removed her own. Quinn took care of their bras and then laid her body back down. Skin met hot skin and the blonde went to pull the covers over them.

"No," Rachel choked out. "I'm already too hot. Just, just you."

"Okay," Quinn nodded and settled down as a blanket on the girl. Feeling Rachel stripped down and bare below her flooded her mind with memories she'd attempted to repress. Images of their first Christmas together pounded through her head. The feeling of Rachel touching her, the worry free happiness, and the old innocent emotions rushed over her. It was all so pure and easy and fun.

And now, now Rachel trembled below her, not so pure, not so easy, and not so fun. But what else was there to do?

Nothing.

Rachel's hands wrapped up and around Quinn's bare neck, their breasts sliding together and legs clenching.

It felt like it always felt, but with cages around their hearts this time, cages and walls and big, big question marks playing with the elephant in the corner of the room.

Rachel clenched her eyes shut and saw the auditorium from earlier, director clapping wildly and throwing a script at her with confidence.

She saw Leroy grinning with pride.

She saw Quinn beaming on the corner of 97th.

And then suddenly, apprehension turned to comfort and she breathed.

"Thank you, professional Bee," she whispered into the blonde's ear.

"Back at you, superstar."


	25. Chapter 24 HS Junior Year March

March - Junior Year

_Give M__e the Beat Boy and Free My Soul_

"I can't believe you're not coming to the party!" Rachel whined and Leroy threw a hand up to cut off the rest of her diatribe. "It's Quinn's birthday, Daddy."

"She'll have more."

"That's not the point."

"I'll make twice the appearance at next year's party. Okay? Rachel, not today," he groaned, energy failing him.

"'I'm tired,' is not a good enough excuse for missing my girlfriend's birthday."

"I'm _tired!_ Deal with it. She'll survive."

"Whatever," Rachel huffed and stormed out of his room. She ran smack into her other father and Hiram stilled her with a single look.

Enough was enough.

"He doesn't feel well. Let it be."

"But-"

"Let it be," he warned again.

"Are_ you_ at least coming or should I tell her both my parents bailed?"

His eyes found the wall.

"_Great._ Great support. Thanks, fathers!" she shouted, stomped down the stairs and stormed out the door. It slammed with attitude and Hiram jumped.

* * *

><p>"It's okay, Rachel," she assured and plopped down on the lounge chair by the pool. "Stop apologizing."<p>

"I feel awful, though," Rachel whimpered and sat down in front of her. She smacked Quinn's legs apart and slid up between them to relax back on the girl.

"I'll have more birthdays."

"That's exactly what he said and that's not the point."

Quinn grinned and snaked her arms around Rachel's front before dropping her chin comfortably to her shoulder.

"Stop pouting, please. And when do I get my present?" she chirped.

"If he's tired enough to miss your party, he's tired enough to need to go to the doctor."

"Are you listening to me?"

"Yes, and also ignoring you."

"Pleasant."

"I mean, I'm right, right? Who gets so tired they don't even want to leave the house? That's doctor material."

"I don't agree. Parents are just… old. They get tired. He'll be fine."

"Well he'll just _love_ your opinion," she huffed and Quinn pulled her in closer.

"Baby…"

"What?" Rachel muttered, thoughts wandering in a thousand different directions.

"My present."

"Who said I got you a present?" she grinned, eyes darting happily over her shoulder at the birthday girl.

"You better have gotten me a present, a bedazzled present. It's the only reason I'm in this relationship."

Rachel laughed, a little less worrisome by the second.

"Oh yeah?"

"Mhm. Bedazzles and a meal ticket," Quinn added.

"Gonna ride my ass to the big time, huh?"

"Gonna ride it for more reasons than that," she purred and nipped at Rachel's neck. The brunette's worries flooded away, drained out and shimmied into the pool. She closed her eyes and snuggled into Quinn. The cool March air blew over them in a peaceful way she missed during the winter.

"Tell me about these other reasons you'll be riding me," Rachel murmured. "Tell me about all of them."

"You little minx. Is this Rachel Berry initiating dirty talk?" Quinn chuckled and the girl in her arms gasped defiantly.

"Not anymore."

"Awe, baby!" Quinn laughed and Rachel crawled off the chair in a huff.

The back door swung open and Judy, Puck, and Brittany poured out with elated smiles and laughter.

"There they are!" Judy and Brittany beamed.

"I said it first," Brittany snapped. "I get the prize!"

"Britt, there's no prize," Puck snorted.

"Um, there's always a prize."

"What are you guys doing?" Quinn interjected with a smile.

"Looking for the birthday girl; she snuck out of her own party with a pouty hobbit," Puck laughed.

"Noah."

"_Bro_."

"Oh, stop," Quinn groaned. "Stop with the bromance stuff. It drives me nuts."

"Q, what are we if they're a bromance?" Brittany wondered.

"A wet dream ready to happen," Puck muttered. Quinn snapped off her Mary Jane and hurled it at him. After a swift duck, it flew over his head and directly into the pool.

"Nice one," Rachel muttered. "Those are _mine_."

"Whoops."

"Now you owe _me_ a present."

"You have more shoes than underwear, stop huffing."

"Shoes are a girl's best friend," Brittany chirped.

"No, Britt, that's diamonds," Quinn corrected and Rachel whipped to her.

"_That's_ something I could get on board with! Forget the shoe, go with diamonds. Big fat, glistening-"

"Easy tiger," Puck laughed. "Let a girl put a ring on it."

"Thank you!" Quinn boasted. "She steals things all the freaking time, you wouldn't even believe."

Puck chuckled and nodded, eyes twinkling at Quinn and winking at Rachel. He loved them. He loved them so, so much. He'd never be as perfect for Quinn as Rachel and he'd come to accept that. The blonde lit up around her. She smiled a smile she reserved strictly for the brunette. And Rachel, well she got less annoying as each day passed, especially lately. She was relaxed, flirty, and even fun.

He figured she got laid.

Oh, the images of them getting laid and kissing and-

"We still on for the movie on the lawn tonight? Is everyone staying for it?" Judy interrupted, _thank god_.

"Actually, Mom, it's just the four of us right here. We didn't invite any of the others."

"San can't come?"

"No!" Rachel snapped and Brittany popped her mouth closed. "She'd torment, tease, and eat me alive."

Puck shivered at the thought. He needed air. He needed… baseball.

"You wanna join?" Quinn asked her mother.

Judy smiled casually, attempting to mask her giddy excitement at being invited. She only ever wanted to be invited.

"No, no, I couldn't. It's your party. You kids keep to yourselves. Do kid stuff," she answered with a wave of her hand.

"You sure?" Rachel asked. "It's really fine. It would be quite pathetic to be ditched by all four of our parents today."

"Your Dad's trying," Judy assured Quinn, "but the office just isn't working for him."

"It's fine," she muttered. "No big deal."

Rachel shot eyes over the saddened blonde and instantly started brainstorming ways to make it up to her. Sure, sex didn't replace absent fathers, but it could redirect the mind. It could definitely redirect the mind. And there were endless opportunities to do just that on the check list note card in her purse.

Yes, she had a check list.

She didn't want to forget her ideas.

And she loved, loved, loved her ideas.

Said ideas flooded her thoughts and she found herself licking her lips and leering at Quinn. The blonde laughed with Puck and Brittany and then met her eyes.

Her laughter died and she did a double take.

And then she twitched.

And she blushed.

And she smirked.

The tension exploded.

"So the movie later," Puck said and cleared his throat, never missing a beat between the golden couple and the last beat nearly rocking his pants off.

"Can we watch Andre?" Brittany chirped.

Four sets of eyes landed on her.

"What? He's a seal. And he claps!"

Four sets of eyes didn't respond.

"…he dances, too. …What?"

"Veto," Puck huffed. "No romances either," he sneered at the couple. "Let's go horror. Horror outside in the grass would be cool as hell- heck. Cool as heck."

Judy snorted and shook her head.

"I'll leave you kids to it. Don't forget to say bye to your friends as they start leaving."

"Thanks, Mom. Don't forget to join us!" she hollered and Judy retreated back into the house. Silence fell over them as Brittany pondered over Andre, Puck pondered over baseball, and Rachel pondered over Quinn's naked body.

Quinn cleared her throat.

"So my present!"

* * *

><p>"I can't… believe… this is… my present," she moaned, hands tangling in Rachel's hair and grass needles tickling her neck and bare hips. Her eyes rolled closed and she raised her hips up to meet those delicious, delicious lips and snarky, sneaky tongue.<p>

Oh, the tongue.

Rachel's tongue.

Rachel's everything.

"Happy birthday," she murmured, hot air blowing over Quinn's wetness. She smiled and slid two fingers inside without warning.

"Ohhh, happy birth- ah- day, indeed," Quinn panted.

Fingers probed deep and that tongue, god that tongue, licked her and massaged her and played with her all over.

"I'm sorry," she panted again.

"For what?" Rachel muttered through juices.

"For making fun of your note card. I love, I love the note card. I worship the note card."

"Stop talking. You'll wake your parents."

"I can't, I can't. I have, oh my god do that again," she moaned and Rachel pulled her clit back into her mouth to suck on it. Quinn's hips bucked and her right arm dragged up, up, and up over her head to grip dry earth.

"You need to hush. I'm not going to get caught eating you out."

"Oh, _shiiiiit_. Say more stuff like that."

"Bee. _Hush."_

"I can't, oh I can't. I have so many thoughts. They, they, oh god, they're going crazy," she groaned, head tossing to either side. "Is this what it feels like to be you?"

"Ass."

"I'm, I'm serious. I can't form, I feel… oh, yesss," she hissed as Rachel curled her fingers. "Why have we not done this fully before now? This is, this is… everything."

"I was scared. Quinn, _hush_. Your parent's window is right there."

"Mom thinks we're watching the movie."

"That was three hours ago."

"So, so, oh my, so she'll think we're in bed."

"And if she looks?" Rachel murmured, laid her tongue flat and dragged it all the way up Quinn. She dragged her left hand forward under Quinn's shirt and gripped a nipple.

"Uggggh, what did you say?"

Rachel smiled and dove back in. Suddenly very thankful for her big lips and talented tongue, she assaulted Quinn with everything in her. She loved the weird taste, the shaking thighs against her ears, and the clawed fingers ripping her hair out. It was perfect.

"You're, you're…"

"Shush."

"I caaaan't. I feel like, like ice cream. Is this what ice cream feels like?"

"You're not making sense," Rachel whispered and danced her tongue around Quinn's tingling nub. She pulled her fingers out, rubbing and stretching as she did so, and then pushed them back inside to rub harder.

"My brain makes sense. It does, oh it does. But words, words are, are hard."

Rachel's wandering eyes caught a flash of light in Judy's bedroom. It shot incomparable fear straight to her toes.

"Quinn shut up," she barked quietly and stilled herself.

A fiery blonde head arched up from the ground and glared down at her.

"_Why_ did you stop?"

"Shut up, shut up. The window," she shot her eyes up. Quinn lay back down and curled at the waist to turn and look at the house. The side table lamp by her parent's bed lowly lit the room. She whipped back to Rachel.

"It's dark enough right? Out here? They can't see?"

"The moon is enough. Come on," Rachel gasped, pulled out of Quinn and yanked her awkwardly to her feet. They stumbled through the yard to the tree line, Quinn's shorts flapping around her ankles, and snuck behind a tree where they froze and waited.

Quinn leaned back against it, body on fire and wetness cooling between her legs. Rachel stood in front of her, slowly leaning to the right to peer at the house, her face glistened in the moonlight and Quinn chuckled.

Judy cracked open the back door, looked out over the pool, the empty blankets, the projector, the roll out screen, and... the t-shirt.

Oh no.

Rachel looked down and saw only bra; shit, she'd forgotten her shirt. She cursed herself and watched Judy give the yard one more glance before shutting the door.

She leaned back behind the tree and looked at Quinn; she was desperate and frustrated beyond belief.

"She gone?" the girl panted.

"Yeah, sorry love."

"Where's your shirt?" Quinn giggled.

"Yard."

"Nice one."

"From the girl with her shorts around her ankles…"

"They're staying there," Quinn snapped and yanked Rachel into her. "It's not a present if I don't come."

"When did you get such a dirty mouth?"

"When you went down on me. You ripped something open," Quinn growled and brought their mouths together. "Now come on."

Rachel ignored her, slipping her tongue deep inside to let Quinn taste herself and effectively cut off her pleas. She drove deep, dancing her tongue over Quinn's just like she had between her legs. The mimicked movements drove the blonde crazy with need. She placed hands on the brunette's shoulder and pushed down.

"Really, Bee?" Rachel moaned. "You gonna force me to my knees?"

"Don't wanna have to…"

"Say please."

"Please."

"Say pretty please."

"Pretty please."

"Say-"

"Rachel if you don't finish what you started I will never have sex with you again."

Rachel dropped to her knees, spread Quinn's legs and forced her tongue back to work. She brought her right hand up, pushed two fingers inside her and curled roughly.

"Oh, oh, oh, ohhh…"

"Pee."

"What?" Quinn snapped, fear rocketing through her.

"You seemed stuck on oh. I was helping," Rachel quivered out. Quinn breathed an enormous sigh of relief.

"No more jokes. No more. You just gave me a my-girlfriend-is-a-closeted-fetish-freak heart attack."

"Huh?" Rachel asked.

"Nothing, go back to work."

"Say please."

"Rachel."

"That's not please."

"_Please_, baby."

Rachel licked up her, swirled around Quinn's hot center and rocked her fingers in out.

And a crunch sounded in the background.

What was that? _What_ was that? Her ministrations lost their flow as worst-case scenarios pounded through her head and another twig snapped.

"Rach, focus."

"I am."

"You're licking my inner thigh."

Rachel opened her eyes.

Oh.

She gulped.

"I meant to," she muttered and moved back up. Another twig snapped. "Did you hear that?"

"No. Stop talking."

"_Now_ you don't wanna talk. I think it's a bear."

"There're no bears out here."

"I really think it's a bear," she mumbled over sucking Quinn's clit back into her mouth. She twisted, thrust and curled her fingers inside and the blonde's thighs clenched.

"No, no bear. But that, _yes that_."

"I swear it's a bear."

She swirled her tongue, fast, hard and direct over Quinn. Bears eat humans, right? They attack? Especially naked, sweaty humans, right?

"Just eat me, god, eat me."

"Don't say that too loud."

"Oh, my… yesss," Quinn hissed as Rachel tightened her teeth around the nub. She flicked her tongue over the tip and then released it, running a hot, wet, flat tongue over all of her before reverting back to her swirls. "There, there, yes…"

Another crunch.

It shot goose bumps up Rachel's spine and fear through her heart. She picked up her pace and applied all her attention to Quinn. She licked, sucked, and kissed directly over it, raping it with pleasure and never providing a break.

"Oh god, oh god, ohh my god…"

She pushed her fingers in again and again and Quinn's legs trembled uncontrollably before her hands smacked onto the back of Rachel's, gripped tight, and the heat shattered into sparklers and rained all over her body.

She slammed the back of her head into the tree and let the exploding sensations shoot through her, down to her toes and out to her fingers.

And Rachel never stopped.

She licked, kissed, and sucked and Quinn died.

Quinn died hard.

Her knees gave out, her stomach knotted and her crotch flamed hot.

"Stop, stop, stop," she panted and slid her hand between Rachel's mouth and her sex. "Oh, god, stop. Enough," she laughed. "No more."

Rachel giggled from her knees and Quinn caved down the tree into her arms. Her bare ass hit forest floor and she shifted uncomfortably. Rachel looked down between her legs and chuckled.

"You're soaked, you know," she said.

"Yeah and?"

"Ever seen what happens when you stick a wet hand into bird seed?" Rachel grinned. Quinn smirked, imagining all the forest floor items that would be stuck to the most intimate part of her body when she decided to finally stand.

Nothing could be hotter, she figured.

Nothing would _ever_ be hotter.


	26. Chapter 25 Freshman Year of College Nov

Stay with me, guys!

XO Dylan

* * *

><p>November - Freshman Year of College<p>

_Can you take me home? _

"Bee?" she whispered. Nothing came. "Bee…"

Still nothing.

Rachel turned under the arm draped over her shoulder. Slowly, ever so slowly, she turned to put herself face to face with the angelic girl curled up behind her. Her big brown eyes raked over the peaceful sleeping features before her. Quinn was still beautiful, strikingly beautiful.

"Bee," she whispered. "Wake up."

She leaned in to press a light kiss on her lips and froze; was she allowed to do that? Two more inches and she'd do it. Could she?

What were they? They'd been sleeping naked together for weeks now. No matter how late, Rachel arrived at Wallach, walked to 414, stepped inside, stripped her clothes off and crawled into Quinn's bed just as she crawled into her heart.

Sometimes there aren't other choices.

Sometimes there aren't other paths to take. Sometimes your only option is to go with what feels okay, regardless of what your head says about it. Rachel's head said a lot while lying in Quinn's arm. It didn't say as much as her heart, but it said a lot.

It whispered endlessly.

It drove her insane.

It drove her wild.

It drove her.

She leaned forward and pressed her lips to Quinn's, because she had to. The blonde stirred awake beneath the touch and slowly pulled her eyes open. Rachel smiled bashfully and swallowed her embarrassment.

"Sorry," she whispered. "I just…"

"Just what?" Quinn murmured sleepily.

"Couldn't help myself," Rachel whispered.

"I love you."

Rachel sighed and curled further into her arms.

"Can I ask you something?" she said and slid her bare legs further between Quinn's. She wrapped her arms tight, pulling their torsos together and breathed her.

"Mm, yes," Quinn murmured.

"What is this?"

"What is what?"

"This," Rachel said and squeezed her to emphasize their position. Quinn's eyes drifted back open.

"Us?"

"Yes."

"I don't know."

"What do you want?" Rachel pressed. "Now's your chance to say what you want. We need to talk about this."

"Why do we need to talk about it? Let's just be…"

"Because one day it's going to get confusing and in a bad way. One day it's going to need a definition which neither of us will have because we failed to talk about it."

"I don't know what to say."

"Say what you're thinking," Rachel whispered.

But Quinn couldn't say what she was thinking. Everything in her head felt like mush inside Rachel's arms. Everything in her head felt grey and now she knew how her dad felt always trying to understand her.

She missed her dad. She missed her mom. She missed high school, pre apocalypse, when everything was clear. She was in love and it was all she needed.

Now it wasn't all she needed, all Rachel needed, all they could offer.

There was more. There was always more now.

"I'm thinking that I miss how easy it used to be," she whispered.

"I know."

"I don't know what else to say; I feel like a thousand things want to come out and I don't know where to start or what would be best or what you even need from me."

"I just need you," Rachel muttered with finality.

"I'm right here."

Quinn pulled her closer and it was enough, for some reason it was enough. It ended the conversation and comfortable silence fell over them.

Quinn found Rachel in her arms and kept her there. She was never once tempted for more; whether that meant something good or bad, she didn't know. She didn't care to analyze it because it never got her anywhere. All she knew was that Rachel existed in her arms and that's all she needed.

"Tonight is the Roxy," Rachel said.

"What?"

"The concert at the Roxy. Remember?"

"Oh yeah. What time is it?" Quinn murmured and placed kiss after kiss on brown hair below.

"Nine. Just be to Juilliard by eight," Rachel sighed and set kisses across the collar bone in front of her. Everything in her wanted to shift her leg just right, trail her kisses a bit further south, or simply roll Quinn over and take her. But that would get them nowhere.

Right?

"I'll just meet you at the Roxy," the blonde whispered, a bit quieter than normal.

"Why would you wanna meet there instead?"

"It's closer."

"So?"

"…I thought that explained all I needed it to explain."

Rachel detached herself from Quinn and rolled away.

It was one thing for the blonde to be busy, to have a job, to say she would be visiting Rachel at Juilliard at some point, but it was a whole different story to never act on it. And it'd been four months. They'd been in New York for four months and she hadn't stepped foot at the college.

"Why are you avoiding Juilliard?"

"I'm not."

"You are. Two months ago you said you would visit. You always conveniently can't."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"You tell me," Rachel dared.

"I don't like what you're implying," Quinn huffed, snatched the top sheet to curl it around herself and rolled out of bed, Rachel clawing at the sheet as she went. She needed covers, she needed protection. Quinn ripped it free of her grasp and it left the brunette spread naked; she'd never felt more on display.

Quinn marched to the sink, grabbed her toothbrush and started in on her routine.

"So you're denying the fact that you're avoiding Juilliard?" Rachel asked and sat up, pulling her knees to her chest and crossing her ankles on the bed to cover herself.

Quinn thanked God for the mouthful of toothpaste in that moment. She pointed to her overflowing beak with her free hand. How could she answer that question when she _was_ avoiding Juilliard? Every sight of the school brought back last year when they visited. She couldn't stand to see it, to be near it, to think of it. It screamed their wreckage back at her and her fragile, confused heart couldn't take it.

"Quinn."

"Bwushing my teef," she drawled over paste, as if that was a legitimate excuse. It was enough to send Rachel's light annoyance into pissed off territory.

"I can't believe you," she mumbled, slid to the edge of the bed and grabbed at her clothes. "I'm out of here." She threw on her jeans without underwear, her hoodie without a bra and her boots without socks.

Quinn rushed to clear her mouth free of loads and loads of paste, foam and water. Rachel swiped left and right, grabbing books, bags, hats, necklaces.

Quinn spit and spit.

Get it out. Get it out. Get it out.

She swished and spit again just as Rachel was going for the door.

"Wait, wait!"

"What?"

"I'm not avoiding Juilliard," she tried.

"You're lying to me! You're flat lying. And if there's one thing we can't afford right now, it's to lie to each other. I'm going home."

"Home is in Ohio."

"No! Home is Juilliard. Home has been Juilliard for four months. You would know this is if you bothered to visit and take an interest."

"Whoa! Back up."

"To what? Are you going to fight the fact that you never visit? Because you don't. Are you going to fight the fact that you don't take an interest in what happens there? Because you don't," she huffed and grasped for the knob. Quinn smacked her hand away, stepped in between Rachel and the door and stood strong.

"I take an interest!"

"You take an interest in my talent. You spend hours upon hours with me in Brooklyn. You run lines, you rehearse numbers, and you're practically best friends with my cast. But tell me something: what does my roommate at school look like?"

Quinn's heart deflated.

She had no idea. She had no idea what Janey Jansen looked like. She imagined a bleach blonde with big thighs and a bigger mouth, bent at the waist and spread wide, asking for Big Daddy to give it to her…

But surely that wasn't right.

Her mouth popped open to answer, but nothing came out.

"Four months, Quinn. I have lived with this girl for four months and you can't tell me what she looks like. What does that say to you?"

"I, I…"

"Sean, your _lobby receptionist_, knows my birthday! She knows my dad's voice because she's heard it so many times on speaker phone when I show up while talking to him. She says hi to _my dad_! She knows I carry Music History books on Tuesdays and Intro to Stage on Wednesdays. She knows when I buy new clothes, for Christ's sake, Quinn! And you can't tell me anything about the girl who sleeps three feet above me."

Quinn had no words.

"I'm going home. Maybe I'll see you tonight if I decide to show."

"I, I…"

"Eloquent. Get out of my way," Rachel barked and the harshness stilled her. Quinn stepped to the right. Rachel gripped the knob and stormed out, the door slamming shut as she went.

Shit. Well that came out well.

* * *

><p>"Name?" the weathered, lanky man called from behind the dirt-streaked glass. Posters of local New York bands covered the edges with dates and prices plastered across them.<p>

"Quinn Fabray!" she hollered back. The outdoor lobby's house music blared in her ears as patrons got in their last smoke of the evening before piling in for the opening act.

"Got nothing under that name!" he called back, shining back his lacking top row of teeth.

"This is Will Call, right?" she questioned and he nodded. "Try Rachel Berry."

He searched his computer again and then brought his eyes back to her.

"I got that name, but they're already picked up."

"What does that mean?"

"It means Rachel Berry already picked up her two tickets. In fact, you just missed her," he added.

Her jaw hit the floor as her eyes peeled wildly over the crowd.

So sure, they'd had a fight, but Rachel wouldn't pick up her tickets and leave Quinn at the door. Never in a million years that would happen.

She whipped back to the man.

"Was she short and brunette? Bubbly little crazy thing?" Quinn asked.

"Nope, tall and redheaded. Quite a looker that one," he added with a smarmy smile. Quinn sighed and shook her head.

"That's not Rachel Berry. You gave away our tickets."

"She had an ID that said Rachel Berry. Pardon me, but that's enough. We're not Broadway for shit's sake. Next!"

Quinn huffed and stepped aside. People swarmed around the lobby and she stuck out like a sore thumb; her green fall dress, knee high boots and baby blue scarf looked like happiness compared to the monochrome fashion surrounding her.

She crossed her arms over her chest and thought.

Where the hell was Rachel? What was going on and what the hell to do?

She grabbed her purse, opened it up and dug out her-

"Are you Quinn?"

Her attention shot up and connected with the bluest eyes she'd ever seen. They shined for days and gorgeous auburn hair fell around her porcelain, freckled skin to frame her strong jaw and chiseled cheekbones. She could've been cut from stone for all Quinn knew.

"Yes, I'm Quinn."

"Rachel's not coming," the girl said and Quinn's eyes narrowed. Why did this girl know more about Rachel in this moment than she did? There was something very, very wrong with that.

"What do you mean she's not coming and who are you?"

"I'm Janey, her roommate. She wasn't feeling well so she said I could take her spot! You ready?" she chirped and held out an elbow for Quinn.

Something was very, very wrong.

"Sick how?"

"She said her throat hurt."

"Did she mention calling 911?" Quinn narrowed her eyes as Janey thought back.

"Um, no. Don't recall. It's just a throat," she laughed.

"A throat is not just a throat to Rachel Berry. If she was really sick with something of the throat, she would be going ape shit."

"She said you would say that," Janey smiled and Quinn's shoulders fell.

"Did she?"

"Mhm. She also said to tell you that you can either, and this may be a little awkward, but bear with me, you can either go to the show with me to get to know me or you can go see her at Juilliard."

"How convenient that those are her only two options," Quinn muttered and looked out over the busy New York street. Yellow cabs blared by, pedestrians ran at their own risk and hot dog vendors shouted their fixings.

"Quinn?"

"What?"

"I would like to go inside. Are you going to be cool and join or be a punk and go back to Jule?"

"Don't call me a punk."

"Don't be a punk then," she snapped right back. Quinn's eyes fell over her; she didn't like the girl. Immediately, she didn't like the girl and she couldn't figure out why. Something inside her churned just looking at her classically beautiful face. She wanted to stretch her perfect cheekbones out.

"Are you gay?" fell out of Quinn's mouth before she could stop it. Those ocean eyes sparkled with defiance and then she smiled. She smiled and Quinn thought she was going to die; the girl's smile reached for days.

"Why do you ask?"

"I'm not asking for me."

"Oh. Well that's unfortunate," Janey mumbled and her eyes fell to the ground.

Wait. Wait, wait, wait, she thought Quinn was asking for herself which meant she didn't know of _Rachel and Quinn_. Maybe she didn't know of Rachel and Quinn because she didn't know of Rachel.

Maybe?

"Who are you asking for?" Janey wondered.

"No one, just curious. Going with my gut, apparently."

"Well yes, I am gay."

"And how long will you be roommates with Rachel?" Quinn asked, really embarrassed at how the conversation was taking her hostage. She didn't want to be asking these questions. She didn't want to be prying. She didn't want to sound jealous.

"What does that matter? Rachel and I get along."

"Just a question."

"Through the entirety of our stay at Juilliard unless one of us requests otherwise," she answered and cocked her head to the side, waiting for Quinn's follow up.

"And Rachel…" Quinn led, because she apparently just had to.

"What about her?"

"Do you know about…"

"About….?"

"About her…"

"Her what?"

"Her um…"

"You are really bad at this. Do I know she's gay? Yes," she snapped. "What's the big fucking deal? Are we gonna go watch the show or not? We can talk about Rachel later. I can put in a goddamn word if you're so interested."

The statement hit Quinn like a bag of bricks.

It hit her again and again and again in the head, in the heart, between her legs. It thundered through her and gave her the first glimpse of what life would sound like if Rachel Berry was never hers again. _I'll put in a good word for you._

She didn't need a word.

Rachel was hers.

Rachel was _hers._

Rachel was hers, _right?_

Before she knew it, her feet walked away from the so-called friendly redhead. Her fists balled and her ears billowed smoke.

She hit the subway seconds later. It passed without memory.

Next thing she remembered, her feet marched up to the Rose building, climbed fifteen stories and then she pounded on room 1504.

The door swung open and the brunette gasped.

"Qui-"

She reached forward, gripped the hoodie and smashed her lips into an unsuspecting Rachel Berry. She pushed through the door, kicked it shut with her foot and slammed Rachel into the armoire on the right. It was the first time she'd set foot in that dorm room, but she had no interest in looking around.

She had an interest in showing Rachel what she was to her.

She needed to provide answers and receive answers. Why did Rachel tell Janey she was gay, but fail to add the fact that she had a… a… a _Quinn_.

And then it hit her; Rachel was right. Their confusion and failure to define it boiled to a head and the moment she feared had arrived. She couldn't label what Quinn was, so Quinn didn't exist. Quinn never came around to give Rachel a reason to try. Quinn never met Janey so she didn't need an introduction. She didn't need a "comma girlfriend" or "comma ex" or "comma friend who loves me" behind her name because she never gave Rachel the chance.

And now her roommate, a stranger, offered to set her up with Rachel as if she had more of an in than Quinn did. It was utterly wrong and today, Quinn rectified it.

She slowed her assault to a crawl, sweetly snuck her hands around Rachel's waist, under her sweatshirt and gripped her back. She pulled her flush into her. She let their bruised lips pull apart and dropped hers to Rachel's neck, tears forming in her eyes and unable to stop it.

"You came," Rachel murmured, hands pawing at the blonde and lips digging through layers of scarf to find skin. Quinn reached up, ripped it off her neck and pushed back into Rachel. Her hands found thighs and she pulled them apart, pushing herself further in between.

"You told Janey you were gay," she muttered between nips to the brunette's ears. She missed them. She missed playing with those lobes and dancing her tongue across the edge.

"I _am_ gay."

"She told me she would put in a good word if I was interested in you," Quinn added and pushed harder, spreading Rachel's thighs wider. The brunette chuckled and Quinn slid lower, grasped the back of one knee and lifted. It pulled Rachel apart exactly as she wanted. She thrust her hip perfectly into the girl and Rachel's head fell back onto the armoire with a thud.

It'd been months, _months_, since she felt anything touch her down there.

"I'm sorry she offered to be your wing man," Rachel husked.

"Why does she not know about me?"

"Why would she?"

"You don't fucking talk about stuff?" Quinn barked. Rachel's hands thrust forward, slamming into Quinn's chest and propelling her away.

"And what would I tell her?" she snapped and wiped her mouth clean. "There's this girl up at Columbia who likes to strip me down and sleep. Or maybe that I have a high school sweetheart I'm still in love with but can't be with because she won't talk about it; yeah that one sounds fun. Or how about-"

Quinn didn't let her finish. She pushed back into her, grasped her hands and shoved them above her head. Their bodies melded together, clothed breasts to breasts and hips begging for more each time they rubbed together.

"Dammit, tell me what I should've said!" Rachel snapped.

Quinn whipped her around and pushed her front into Rachel's back, hands still pinned above and cheek flesh to wood.

Quinn needed her, wanted her. She craved familiarity. She craved possession like she had a year ago. She had answers then. She had a future. There was clarity. Now she had nothing. Now she needed something, anything.

She moved Rachel's hands together to grip them with her left and then snaked her right hand down and around to the front of Rachel's sweats. The tie pulled open with a yank and-

"What are you gonna do, Quinn? _Force_ me?"

Quinn's heart ripped to shreds and her back hit the opposite armoire before she knew it. Her eyes wide with shock and staring at Rachel's form shoved into the other closet, she trembled and forced her hands in her pockets.

What was she doing? God, what was she doing?

Rachel slowed her breathing, wiped her brow and then turned to look at the terrified blonde standing four feet away. She brought her hand to her mouth and regretted the comment instantly.

"I didn't mean that."

"I'm so sorry. I'm _so_ sorry."

"Don't. Don't be. I didn't mean that. It wasn't like that," Rachel assured and stepped forward. Quinn stepped back and it shattered her. "Come here, Bee. Look at me and come here."

Quinn pulled her eyes up to Rachel's, soft and sweet. The tiny girl extended a hand, offering a little bit of everything just as Quinn had the day of their first kiss. She swallowed, reached out, and grasped it. Rachel yanked, pulling them back together and slowing Quinn's quivering lips by smothering them with her own.

"I didn't mean that," she whispered again between kisses. "I didn't mean that." She stepped into the blonde, pressing them tighter, and walked her into the back of the door.

Their kisses felt different.

They felt like they were finally leading somewhere. They felt like they had purpose again; they weren't just there, drowning in the confusion. Quinn let the feeling roll over her and ignored the constant fear bubbling in her abdomen. She wanted this. She wanted Rachel.

"I want you. I need you to be mine," she murmured and heard a click.

It stopped their kisses and she looked down to her left as Rachel's fingers slid off the lock.

"Then have me."

Quinn wrapped her arms around the familiar shoulders and brought their lips back together. Floodgates to emotion opened up and an avalanche destroyed them. Quinn tilted her shivering head, cocked her mouth open and let Rachel slide inside. She hadn't felt that tongue since the day they arrived at Columbia. It seemed like ages ago.

It massaged her own, the roof of her mouth and danced over the front of her teeth. She wanted it on her body. She wanted it everywhere.

"Are you okay with this?" Quinn murmured, her lips dropping down to the jaw and lobe and then neck. Rachel moaned, tilted her head and tightened her fingers around Quinn's high dress belt.

"Yes. Don't ask again."

"Why?"

"Because my answer might change, just, just keep going," she pleaded and trailed her fingers to the front of Quinn's belt. She unhooked it and ripped it free of her dress. Her fingers shot north to the buttons.

"No," Quinn whispered and reached under her own dress. She shimmied and shimmied until Rachel watched her pull a thong down her thighs. She stepped one leg out and then let it fall around her opposite boot.

Rachel licked her lips, eyes locked on hazel, and Quinn grabbed her right hand before shoving it under her dress as she slipped her own hand into Rachel's sweats.

Fingers met wetness simultaneously and they fell back into door with gasps. The sensations rang so familiar yet foreign at the same time.

Quinn dragged her fingers through Rachel and about collapsed at the feeling. She'd wanted it for so long, dreamt of it for longer, and craved it for years. Now she had it.

And she still had no idea what it meant.

"Bee," Rachel moaned, her soaked forehead resting on Quinn's jolting collarbone. It's where she always rested anytime this took place standing. It was her spot.

"Yeah?" she gasped, Rachel's fingers swirling around her like they perfected almost two years ago. They knew each other inside and out. Orgasms were faster, motions more fluid, ministrations mature and intuitive.

They knew each other like nothing else.

Quinn flatted her hand, tightened two fingers together and pushed inside the love of her life.

"Oh god," Rachel groaned and widened her stance. "Another."

Quinn pulled out, added her ring finger and shoved back inside. Rachel's head fell backwards and Quinn pushed harder, the tightness causing her forearm to burn already.

"Me too," Quinn panted. Rachel didn't hesitate, nor did she prepare her. She tightened three fingers together and slid inside Quinn. The blonde head slammed back into the wall as Rachel pushed in and out of her, a friendly thumb still spinning circles over her clit.

Quinn mimicked her moves, sending a wildfire trail of desire up her abs, over her breasts and crawling up the back of her neck. It tingled everywhere, burned more and sparkled behind her eyes.

Rachel pushed in and pulled out over and over, stretching Quinn with fury and curling each time to hit that spot she accidentally found two Christmases ago. She'd accidentally found it and then mastered it. She knew exactly where to touch to make Quinn lose herself. And here she was doing it again as if nothing changed.

She looked up to the beautiful face before her. Quinn's bottom lip was graced with an impression of teeth marks. Her cheeks flushed hot red. Her ears twitched like they always did when she was about to come. She knew the girl felt just as she did. She knew it was rocketing through her body just like the first time, ready to explode like a train against the wall, wreckage and fire and destruction.

It's all she ever wanted and all she ever got.

"Bee," she moaned again.

"Yea- yeah?"

"What are we d- doing?" she gasped as Quinn's fingers slid out to circle her clit and then shove back inside. Her eyes rolled back in her head and lips found hers. Lips found hers hard. They clashed, sucked, begged and loved on each other. Tongues dueled. Teeth nipped. And pleasure shot through the roof.

The roof of a place she'd been too terrified to visit, too terrified to visit because it reminded her everyday that one day, Rachel Berry would be bigger than her. Rachel Berry would be bigger than her.

"What are we doing," the girl panted again.

And in that moment, with Rachel buried deep inside her and she buried deep inside Rachel after months of wanting nothing more than this exactly, only one word came to her mind to answer that question. Only one word shined behind her eyelids and it made it okay.

"Bee," she panted again.

"Feeling, Rach. We're _feeling_. Now come with me, love."


	27. Chapter 26 HS June before Senior Year

I feel like I had a lot to say in this little preface, but I can't remember. Couple things:

1. To answer a question I keep getting, Rachel is 24 in the prologue. Keep trying to figure out the time line, dear friends. :D

2. Have faith in your writer. It's going to get worse before they even have the opportunity and chance and moment to get better.

Hold my hand and keep reading! XO Dylan PS- This is one of my favorite chapters. ENJOY!

* * *

><p>June - Summer Before Senior Year of High School<p>

_I wanna drive! I w__anna drive! But you can't drive._

"I… am… so… gonna…"

"Come?" she whispered.

"Yessssssmmph," Rachel hissed as Quinn plastered a hand over her mouth and circled her soaked fingers faster. Rachel tensed and shook as her hips lifted into those glorious fingers.

Teeth immediately sunk into Quinn's hand and the normal level of human-biting pleasure came... and then it went and her skin popped as blood dribbled out.

"Ow! Shit!" Quinn squealed and ripped her hand free. Rachel's body trembled, melted, and softened into the seat as her orgasm fled free.

"Quinn! Language," Judy berated, whipped around and glared from the front seat. "No rough housing!"

Quinn hid her hand behind the middle seat full of luggage and dropped her eyes to the bloody line of teeth impressions.

Rachel looked at nothing in particular: rainbows, sunshine, unicorns, and birds chirping through stars. Her head bobbled left and she smiled dreamily at Quinn.

Judy narrowed her eyes.

"Okay, that's enough! I think it's time for you girls to switch cars."

Fifteen minutes later, Rachel looked at her dads from the back seat of their SUV. Her fully aware eyes peeled from her dad singing Fleetwood Mac to her daddy wearing sunglasses _over_ his seeing glasses as he played dashboard drummer to Dad's lead singer.

And then she looked to the trees whipping by outside to her right.

And then her eyes fell to the powered off radio.

And finally, they landed on her lap.

She looked back up with a huff.

"I didn't think _switching cars_ meant me in one and Quinn in the _other_."

"Judy said you were rough housing," Leroy stated between smacks to the steering wheel, his beat entirely lost and driving Rachel insane.

"Judy also said your face was red, your eyes were dilated, and your neck was sweating, and I'll promise you now, if we ever catch you masturbating in _our_ car, you'll be grounded for weeks."

Rachel's jaw dropped.

"I was _not_ masturbating!"

"So that settles it," Hiram laughed.

"Settles what?" Rachel muttered suspiciously.

"That it was Quinn's doing."

Oh shit_._

"I- that's- ugh- what do- you're- ar- em- hmmm," she shrieked.

Hiram looked over his shoulder at the distraught, lost, and humming girl.

"Look at her, Lee; she's officially broken."

"I can't look at her," Leroy muttered and went back to drumming, his heart _officially broken_ at the confirmed loss of his baby girl.

Rachel whipped out her phone.

_They know you were touching me._

Quinn's eyes bulged at the text vibrating in her hands. They know wha, how the, what the, did they…

**You lie.**

_Dad just accused me of masturbating after describing my sex goddess appearance. I denied it, stupidly, because then that only left one option._

**Me?**

_Tapping my nose at you right now._

** Smartass.**

_What do I do? I just tried speaking and resulted to shrieking a high note._

** Try not to die of embarrassment? ****You sex goddess.**

_I miss your hands already._

** They do not miss you, you biter! I'm ****still bleeding.**

_I could make you bleed._

** How, in any way shape or form, is that supposed to be sexy?**

_I'm still new at this dirty texting thing!_

** Taking a nap now…**

_No! Play with me! I'm horny! Bee! Beedoubleyooou…_

After an inevitable eye roll, Quinn let her head roll left, shut her eyes, and passed the hell out. Her phone continued to vibrate on the seat beside her:

_Does your lake house have a whirl pool tub?_

_ What about a tire swing?_

_ God, I can't stop thinking about all the places I want to fuck you._

_ God, I can't believe I just said fuck._

_ Quinn?_

_ Quinn, you there?_

_ You took a nap, didn't you? Ugh, you drive me crazy!_

_ Quinn._

_ Quiiiiiiiinn._

Five minutes later Quinn's phone buzzed yet again.

_ …Quinn?_

* * *

><p>"Wow, it's beautiful!" Rachel gushed from the foyer, bags in hand and surrounded by rustic wood, worn leather furniture and lofted ceilings.<p>

"Awesome, right?" Quinn chirped.

"_You_ don't talk to me," she snapped and turned to Judy with a smile as Quinn's eyes bulged. "May you please direct me to the guest quarters?"

She grinned, fully entertained by the girls as usual, and pointed towards the loft.

"We figured you two would like the loft. It's quite quaint… and open."

"Quite acceptable. Thank you!"

Rachel spun on her heel with a hair flip and a huff and headed towards the spiral, wrought iron staircase leading to the loft.

Quinn gulped and wondered if she should follow or not.

"Um, do I, um…" she called out, weight shifting awkwardly.

"Come!"

Quinn snapped into action and hustled to the staircase. All four parents stood in awe, heads cocked to the side and eyebrows to their hairlines.

"What was that about?" Russell muttered.

"I have no idea," Leroy added.

"Do we ever?" Judy smirked, grabbed her bags and headed towards the master. Vacationing with the Berrymen and their eccentric daughter would be interesting; it would be very, very interesting. It was the reason she came without books.

Quinnberry and Rachelbray wouldn't let her down; they never did.

And six hours later, spread around the campfire on the edge of the lake, she was proven more right than she ever thought possible.

"Singing is _totally_ a more accomplished and stronger talent than writing!" Rachel wailed and Quinn lay back, arm on a log and a smirk on her face.

"I don't think so, Short Stack," she taunted and Rachel guffawed. "Pen to paper and manipulating words, it's ridiculously hard, you know? You just… like… open your mouth and let sounds fall out."

Rachel gasped.

"You're joking, right? Tell me you're joking or the wedding is off."

"Wedding?" Hiram spat.

"Metaphorical," Rachel tossed his way. He took a gulp of fresh air.

"Oh god, my heart is too old for metaphorical."

"Ain't it the truth?" Russell muttered.

"Your heart isn't old, it's weak. Because of cheeseburgers," Judy piped in.

"Not now, Jude."

"Just sayin."

Leroy gave her a nod of encouragement and Rachel glared back at Quinn.

"Tell me you're joking, Bee. Right now. I need to hear the words."

"Maybe I'm not," she sing-songed.

"Quinn Fabray!"

She erupted in laughter and lay fully back against the log behind her, eyes shining over the fired up piece of Berry across the way.

"You're so easy," Quinn giggled.

"Apparently," all four parents muttered simultaneously, locked surprised eyes and then burst into giggles.

Embarrassment flooded Rachel's entire body, her skin turning red and her face flaming hot. She shot to her feet, snapped arms across her chest and glared at the circle.

"Nice. Really nice!" she barked and stormed off to the shore, diva wake erupting behind her. Quinn choked back her laughs and begrudgingly crawled to her feet.

"I better go check on her."

"Watch for bears," Russell warned.

"And keep your _hands_ to yourself," Leroy added with a glare.

Quinn froze; her eyes locked on his, half-expecting his jaw to crane open and bugs to swarm out.

It was going to happen. It was finally going to happen.

But nothing happened.

She swallowed her fear and forced her body to start turning away from the fierce scowl on his face. It would be fine, just walk away. Leaves crunched under her feet as she slowly took the turn and each noise made her flinch as if Serial Killer Leroy was back in action.

Oh Christ, it terrified her.

"Rachel!" she wailed and with one last glance over her shoulder, Leroy's eyes still burning holes into her, she took off.

Her feet pounded down the winding path to the dock and all she could envision was Leroy running after her, knife in hand and bugs flying from his cracked open jaw.

Oh my _God_, it was terrifying!

"Rachel!"

"Rachel no aqui! Take your bitch ass on to another dock!"

"_What_ is with the language!" Quinn shouted. "And ghetto…ness."

"I'm pissed off! And I channel Patty fucking Labelle when I'm pissed off, okay? Look at that, you learn something new every day!"

"You a poet, too?"

Rachel snapped a finger out to freeze her.

"Don't push me."

"I don't wanna push you, baby," Quinn purred and slowly walked her way onto the dock with Rachel. The moon shined bright over the lake and frogs gurgled along the shoreline marsh. She loved this place. It reminded her of childhood. She and Frannie would run along the dock joyfully. She would push Frannie _off_ the dock joyfully. Her dad would cheer her on joyfully and her mom would read romance novels joyfully.

"Don't call me baby. Do you realize what just happen?" Rachel huffed, returning to her east and west pacing across the dock.

"Don't get so close to the edge, Rach."

"Don't tell me what to do! I do what I want!" she spat and marched onto Russell's boat just to prove it.

"Could we please let Patty go? I miss my calm, normal girlfriend," Quinn whined and followed with a glance up to the trees to make sure no parents joined them.

"Your calm, normal girlfriend missed _you_ in the car, but what happened then, huh? I got to spend three hours watching my fathers reenact Of Mice and Men!"

"Why that?"

"Daddy thinks he makes the perfect Lennie, I don't know, it doesn't matter! The point is you bailed! In one of the most embarrassing moments of my life! And now! Now! Now our parents make "easy" jokes about me, _Rachel Berry_! I am _not_ easy!"

"You're not?" Quinn purred and stepped a few feet closer, pulling her bottom lip between her teeth and arching a seductive brow at her girlfriend. Rachel's fiery pace slowed a bit, her eyes narrowing in confusion.

"What are you doing? Why are you walking all sultry like? And looking… looking at me like… like…"

"Like I want to lay you down?"

Gulp.

"Yes."

"Because I do."

Rachel gulped again, swallowed the ache in her belly and put her tantrum back on.

"Well, too bad! I am not open for business."

"I have a key."

"It's… it's dead bolted."

"I'll bust it in."

"There's an alarm!" Rachel squealed over a tantrum-defying giggle as Quinn stepped into her path and wrapped a tight arm around her waist. She wrenched her forward and dropped a hand to Rachel's ass, kneading it and pulling their hips together.

"So turn it off," Quinn whispered and darted her tongue out to run over Rachel's lips. Those brown eyes fluttered shut and her head dropped to Quinn's collar. The blonde moved her other hand to Rachel's other cheek and kneaded, pulling them into her, apart, and together.

"Mmm, you seem to know the code," Rachel murmured.

"I heart Q?"

"Close."

"I heart Bee."

"Closer."

"I looove Bee."

"How many ohs?" Rachel giggled.

"Hmm…" Quinn thought. "Three: emphatic, but not desperate."

"Jackpot."

Quinn chuckled and ran her tongue over Rachel's soft neck. The brunette moaned in her arms and she felt tiny hands reach out to clasp her breasts.

"Leroy told me to keep my hands off you," Quinn whispered.

"Your point?"

Quinn snuck a foot behind Rachel's legs and in one swift move, wrenched her over it and collapsed them to the deck of the boat. Rachel yelped and wiggled beneath her as Quinn pawed down her front, over her short shorts and dragged nails down her legs.

"Spread 'em."

"But…"

Quinn narrowed her eyes.

And Rachel spread her legs.

"Not gonna take my shorts off?" Rachel whispered. Quinn ignored it and let her eyes dance down Rachel's strong thighs and spread center.

"Damn," she husked.

"What?"

"Your shorts are so short I can see straight up them."

"And?" Rachel smiled.

"And, _Short Stack_, you're not wearing underwear…"

"Maybe I _am_ easy?" she grinned and curled a finger at Quinn. The blonde shook her head, pushed Rachel's legs together and removed her shorts in one swift pull.

"No hands means no fingers," Quinn muttered.

Her legs fell back open and Quinn hit the deck in an instant, tongue sliding out to drag fully up the girl.

"Oh, maybe I am sooo easy," Rachel moaned and let her fingers thread blonde hair. Quinn chuckled into wet sex and circled her tongue around it just as she knew Rachel liked. She smirked and spelled _I looove Bee_ over and over and over again against Rachel, tongue sliding around her clit, into her entrance, and up and down her folds.

It worked like a charm, the code.

Rachel opened sesame, gushed to the heavens, and came.

A day later, they lay in the same spot on the same boat under the same sky and shared the same coy, sexy glances as their parents bantered around them. Rachel loved having a sex life. She loved christening places and things. She loved walking into her room, seeing her bed, and feeling images of Quinn moaning beneath her instantly pound over her.

She loved walking through the kitchen, seeing the island, and feeling images of Quinn laying her down flood her over.

She loved getting into her car, seeing the backseat, and feeling images of Quinn straddling her rush over her.

She loved rushing over Quinn.

She loved coming. God, she loved coming. She loved calling it coming!

She just, ugh she loved her. She loved her so much.

Especially on days like today, when Quinn wore her bright orange bikini, heart shaped sunglasses and red lipstick.

Sex on a stick, Quinn Fabray was.

Rachel licked her lips.

Three times in one day was too much, right? Three times in one day was like… boy territory. Yesterday, Quinn fingered her in the car and then mmm, last night on the boat.

Rachel squirmed just thinking about it.

And then she'd woken up this morning to Quinn haphazardly spread wide and diagonal across their bed. She'd pranced to the loft railing, checked for any early risers and then crawled back into bed once declaring it safe. Her fingers found Quinn's cheerleader shorts and pulled slowly.

It was a game, that time; how much clothing could she get off before her girlfriend woke up? The answer: all of it. She stripped her bare and then ate her silly. Quinn woke to a tongue probing deep inside her. She declared it the best wake-up call of the century and renamed Rachel her Lady AC: alarm clock.

And then, of course, they had to shower. Quinn took hers first and Rachel wasn't the least bit surprised to find a blonde conveniently blow drying her hair when she finished her own. She'd never seen her own face during an orgasm; now she had, thanks to the Fabray's loft bathroom mirror.

God, she was insatiable.

She needed Quinn every second of every day and it was never enough. She was seventeen and all she could think about was the blonde inside her, beside her, atop her, or beneath her. Her heart pounded with more feelings than she knew how to define and she even knew an exponential amount of words.

She knew all the words!

Yet she could never find them.

It made her feel dirty, naughty, and… alive.

She rolled left onto her elbow to face the object of all her desires and reached out a finger to wipe sweat off Quinn's tanned, toned abs. The hot muscles gave beneath her touch as she pulled her finger across the slick skin. With a smile, she brought it to her face and watched the bead run down her finger. Just as she was about to snake her tongue out to taste it, her eyes focused off in the distance and Judy Fabray came into view.

The woman cocked an eyebrow.

Rachel swallowed her air. She swallowed all of it.

And then she moved her finger back to Quinn's stomach and um… put the sweat back?

Her eyes fell away, twitching awkwardly, and she lay back down.

"What just happened?" Quinn murmured from her back.

"I declared myself a pervert by accident. Don't ask, just add it to the list," Rachel whispered and shook her head, clouds moving into view and sun taking over her thoughts.

"Easy and perverted. Check and check."

Rachel closed her eyes and prayed for sleep.

* * *

><p>Two days later she prayed for just the same. Her body hated her. Well, it loved her more than anything and also hated her more than anything. It needed rest, but craved more. It needed more orgasms, but could barely hold itself up.<p>

Their parents sat on the floor around the blocky, wooden coffee table in the main den playing canasta. Quinn sat on the gazebo picnic bench behind her.

And Rachel sat on Quinn.

"Is it gonna hurt?" she asked.

"Probably," Quinn whispered and ran soothing hands up and down her back. Quinn rolled her hips and the piece of silicone slid against Rachel's wet thighs, rubbing slickly over her sex and starting a slow churning burn in her stomach. Rachel leaned forward, hands gripping her own knees, and focused on Quinn's hands massaging her back.

It felt nice. It felt warm. It felt reassuring.

Her mind eased away from the fear and she leaned back, her shoulders pressing tight to Quinn's chest and her head falling to the blonde's shoulder.

Quinn's hands snaked around her sides and rubbed sweet massages over her front: her breasts, her abs, and her bare thighs.

"You okay?"

"Nerves are settling, just keep, keep touching me."

Quinn rolled her hips and Rachel felt the piece slide along her again. She could do this. She could let Quinn put it inside. She could take it.

"Nothing has to happen that you don't want."

"My heart, it's pounding out of my chest. Is that normal?"

"I can't imagine you'd be having a heart attack at seventeen, love," Quinn whispered and placed a soft kiss to her ear. She brought her hands up Rachel's front and slid them around her, hugging tight.

"You ready?"

"I think."

"Not good enough," Quinn murmured. "We're not doing it if you're not sure."

"I- I am. I'm sure," she choked out, looked back up the dark hill to the barely lit house and nodded. Quinn peered up to the house as well; even if her parents got bored of their hours long card game, they couldn't see anything this dark and this far away. It was a good hundred yards from the house to the lake.

"They can't see, Rach."

"I know. I know."

"You ready?"

"Yeah," she whispered, grabbed the edge of the table behind them, and lifted a few inches off her lap.

Quinn reached between them, pushed her jeans further apart and grabbed the piece to straighten it up. She steadied it and then looked to her right to Rachel's fingers gripping the table, knuckles white and forearm trembling. She looked to her left at Rachel's other hand on her thigh, knuckles white and also trembling. And then she looked up to Rachel's back, neck, and head; shivers continuously shot down it.

Quinn leaned forward, pressed a solid kiss to her spine and then stretched her right hand east to lace her fingers over Rachel's against the table.

"Relax, baby," she whispered.

Rachel felt the tip of it slide against her entrance and her eyes fell shut.

"It's gonna hurt, isn't it? It's gonna hurt."

"Not if you relax."

"I can't relax. I can't. I'm imagining a baseball bat sliding into a baby's sock. The sock doesn't come back from that, Bee. It doesn't. It only fits big burly men after that! I need my socks to fit," she cried and her entire body shook.

Quinn laid it back down and wrapped her arms around the girl's waist to pull her back into her lap. She placed kisses across her hot, sweaty skin.

"Shh, Rach. It's alright."

Rachel brought her arms around Quinn's over her stomach and dropped her head, relief rushing over her. Quinn's solid thighs felt sturdy beneath her bare ass and her breathing slowly regulated.

"Sorry."

"Don't be. Don't be at all," Quinn murmured and dragged her hand down, slowly massaging the girl's discomfort away. She gave comforting squeezes to her stomach, traced soft designs on her hips, massaged her thighs and stroked her knees. "You're okay."

But Rachel wasn't okay. Every inch the blonde touched to calm her down churned the fire inside her. It set it aflame. She wanted those fingers on her, in her.

She reached down, grabbed Quinn's hand and pulled it between her legs. Fingers fell into pools of wetness and Quinn groaned into her back. Instantly, she went to work and Rachel's head lulled back.

"Inside," Rachel demanded and Quinn obliged. She stuck two fingers together and pushed in deep. A moan ripped from Rachel's lips and her legs fell open further. Her eyes clenched shut and her hands went to her breasts, her own breasts. "Look at me, Bee," she panted.

Quinn pulled her eyes open, sat up straight and dropped her chin to Rachel's shoulder. Her eyes darkened at the sight of Rachel playing with her nipples and her fingers pushing in and out the girl.

"You're the sexiest thing I've ever seen," she panted into the shoulder beneath her.

"You're biased."

"You're beautiful."

"I wanna see you."

"Then turn around," Quinn panted, bit once and arched away. Rachel took the break in contact as a demand and stood, pivoted around and straddled Quinn again, eyes to eyes, lips to lips, and bikini breasts to bikini breasts.

Tongues dueled and she felt slick plastic slide against her folds. She rocked forward again and groaned as it pulled across her clit. She was on fire. She was on fire and drenched and in so much need.

"Again," she pleaded.

Quinn rocked forward.

"No. Let's try again. I want it," Rachel begged and opened her eyes to meet her dark, sultry anchors. She told her everything she already knew with just a look and a nod. She trusted her. She wanted it.

So do it.

She gripped the table behind Quinn and pulled, lifting up just enough. Quinn snaked a down between them again, gripped it and pulled vertical. Its tip hit Rachel and her eyes clenched shut, worry immediately and unabashedly flooding over her.

"Rach, keep your eyes on mine," Quinn whispered and those scared brown eyes pulled open. They locked on hers and she smiled. "Remember our first date?"

Rachel nodded, teeth biting her lip and eyes pooling with frightened tears.

"Remember how I ran off the road?"

"You're a horrible driver," she quivered out.

"And remember napping in the back of Dad's truck?"

Rachel nodded.

"I wasn't asleep."

"Huh?"

"I wasn't asleep," she repeated and twitched her hips to circle the silicone around Rachel's entrance. She shivered above and Quinn continued. "I never napped. I lay next to you for those two hours and watched you sleep."

"Why?"

"Because."

"Bee."

"You're perfect to me," she whispered and pushed up a little. An inch of it slid into Rachel and her eyes snapped shut, her mouth clenched, and her hands clung to Quinn's shoulders. "You're okay," she barely whispered and placed a soft kiss to the bare neck in front of her.

Rachel nodded, fear and worry dripping off her.

"You're _still_ perfect to me. Like Thanksgiving, after we touched ourselves for the first time and you fell asleep on me. I watched you."

"You did?" she panted, an inch full and slowly adjusting.

"I did. I could watch you forever," Quinn murmured. "You're gorgeous, for one. And so innocent, for two."

"I don't feel innocent."

"But you are, look at you: trembling, shy, nervous. You're forever innocent," she whispered, love pooling out of her. She couldn't love the girl any more than she already did; it was physically impossible, mentally impossible.

"I love you," Rachel purred and dropped her head to the blonde's shoulder. Quinn smiled and pushed up again, giving her another inch. She gasped, fingers squeezing tight around Quinn's shoulders.

"Hurt?"

"Little."

Quinn pushed further again, Rachel taking another inch.

"Oh my, oh my," she moaned, bit down, and then sat down, all of it sliding in. She gasped, cried out and stuck a knuckle between her teeth to quiet herself. Quinn held her and tried not to come at the noises, images, and touches around her. It was all too much; Rachel was all too much.

"You're amazing," Quinn murmured.

"Don't move."

"You okay?"

"Yeah, just… I wanna… I wanna do it," she panted.

Quinn clenched her thighs to control her insides.

It was too much, all too much.

And then Rachel rocked her hips forward, moaned in pleasure, and tossed her head back… and Quinn lost herself. Her hands shot to Rachel's chest and pushed her bikini up and off her breasts. She palmed them roughly, pinched her already solid nipples and brought her wet mouth down on the neck before her. She licked, sucked and bit away her needs as Rachel rocked her hips again, another belly-churning moan erupting from her lips.

Quinn had never heard such sounds.

Did seventeen year olds hear such sounds?

Was she lucky?

Was she blessed?  
>Rachel rocked again and groaned this time.<p>

So Quinn bit her. She bit her hard. And then she snaked her tongue over the wound and figured they'd call it even.

"You go," Rachel panted, eyes still shut and lips quirked up into a smile.

Quinn grinned, leaned back and pushed her hips up. Rachel yelped and dug her nails into the already bruising skin on the blonde's shoulders. Quinn thrust forward again. And then again, Rachel rocking right back.

And before they knew it, they were fucking.

They were fucking like they couldn't help themselves. Quinn panted at the feelings her end-piece was shooting over her clit and the noises falling from Rachel's lips. And Rachel groaned at every little feeling below her, six inches impaled inside, stretched wide, and forever full of Quinn.

Oh, it was perfect. It was so perfect. Her mind turned to mush, her thoughts blurred with colorful haze and her stomach clenched with every slight movement. Quinn's lap brought heaven; she never doubted it would.

The blonde dropped her head back and gasped for air, her hips jerking forward over and over and over again. Her back ached, her thighs burned, and her clit begged for release. She closed her eyes and imagined it; what it would feel like to be inside Rachel Berry like this.

She imagined walls clenching her privates. She imagined heat, wetness, and ridges. She imagined Rachel gripping her, pulling her deeper, holding her inside. She imagined feeling nothing but Rachel wrapped around her.

"I'm gonna, I'm gonna," the girl gasped above her.

She imagined Rachel coming apart _around_ her.

The thought set her on fire. The thought exploded her insides.

The thought sent her over the edge.

Her eyes pinched shut, she pushed harder and faster and groaned one last time as her orgasm ripped through her, shoving Rachel off the cliff and into her own. Ecstasy soared from the brunette's lips through shrieks, groans, yelps and cries. She straightened up like a statue, clenched again and again, and then shook before collapsing into Quinn's arms.

They melded into the table's painfully hard edge behind them and Quinn gasped for air, finding nothing but Rachel Berry scent and breath and sex.

It was intoxicating.

"Quinn…"

"Yeah?" she breathed.

"Would you ever wanna marry me?" Rachel murmured into her neck.

"I would."

"Could you, could you tell me why?"

And then Quinn did.

And she'd never heard anything like it.


	28. Chapter 27 Freshman Year College Spring

Spring Semester - Freshman Year of College

_I kind of regret taking that right._

"Noah comes to visit tomorrow," Rachel panted and spread her arms east and west to allow the goose bumps traveling over them more distance. She wanted them shooting as far as they could reach, dancing over her breasts and dropping to her navel and springing north to her cold cheek; it pressed flush against the metal cabinet and she gulped for air.

"Okay."

"You excited?" she groaned as Quinn pushed into her from behind, her thighs meeting Rachel's ass. She dropped away again and then thrust back in, grunting as it pushed back against her.

"Sure."

"Are you spending the night?"

"Not if Puck's here. Where would I sleep?"

"With me, he can sleep on the floor, or with Janey."

"Can we not talk about Janey when I'm fucking you?" she panted and pounded her hips harder, eyes locked on Rachel's thighs and ass gripped beneath her fingers. It was magnificent, the way the skin turned white under her grip and then red in its wake. Her eyes crossed watching it over and over again.

She shifted them higher to her abs clenching and clenching each time she pushed forward. And then they dropped down to the silicone slipping in and out of the girl in front of her.

Her eyes flutter shut and she sunk her teeth into her lip.

"Quinn?" Rachel murmured.

"What?"

"Are you okay?"

"Perfect."

"Really?"

"I said I was perfect."

"You seem, oh god, you seem distant," Rachel moaned and strong fingers threaded into her hair. They gripped, tightened and pulled. Her head lulled back and lips attached to her stretched neck.

"How can I be distant when I'm right here?"

"Okay," she gasped. "Okay, Bee."

* * *

><p>Intro to The Stage 2 mirrored Intro to The Stage quite expectantly. Everything remained the same, except Pleated Pants doubly shredded them after each performance and Quinn now met her after class for their ten o'clock session.<p>

Session.

She didn't know what else to call it. Hands were on her the second she walked into the bathroom each Monday and Wednesday. They bent her over a sink. They pushed her into a wall. They took over her a toilet.

They were everywhere, but never there.

It'd been four months since they went from lying together to sleeping together. Sleeping together never quite turned into making love together and now just resembled fucking.

They were fucking.

And she felt Quinn slipping further and further away every time she touched her. It was an odd feeling, quite frankly, to have your fingers inside the girl you love, but to never have felt so far from her.

Those bright hazel anchors turned cloudier by the day and she was powerless to stop it, helpless to understand and hopeless to prevent it. Conversations turned weak, superficial and material.

_How was your day?_

_ Fine. The usual. Classes bored me. How was the play?_

_ Sold out again._

_ That's good._

_ Yeah._

And then the lack of something to say turned into necessary touches. Necessary touches _because _of the lack of something to say. What else were two souls to do but fuck when they couldn't speak to each other?

She could pinpoint the moment things changed; it was the day Quinn met Janey and the redhead offered her an in. It was the day she showed up to her dorm, kissed her fiercely and never stopped.

They should have never had sex.

They promised to keep talking.

They could keep having sex if they were talking.

But they weren't talking.

The words coming out of their mouths were not words to propel them further, not words to clean the slate, and not words to explain feelings. The cage around her heart turned into a panic room: blackened walls and no entry or escape. That was still love, right?

They were still in love. She couldn't imagine not being in love with Quinn.

It was love.

Her heart still pounded upon sight of the girl. Her head still swam when their lips met. Her legs trembled when their bodies touched.

That was love.

Right?

The holidays passed without incident.

The day Leroy died didn't fare so well. She sat in Central Park and cried endlessly, remembering sitting by his bedside, standing by his coffin, and walking away from his tombstone knowing he'd never physically stand before her again.

Quinn held her hand on the bench.

She didn't say a word, but she held her hand.

Families threw frisbies, dogs chased sticks, and Quinn held her hand. She wondered if they would have a family one day. She wondered if there was a light at the end of this tunnel.

Was it a tunnel?

It seemed like a black hole, pulling her down, down and further down. Maybe it would explode like the Big Bang into beauty and creation.

Or maybe they would splat on the floor of the well.

Maybe this was the beginning of their end again, their part two. It couldn't be, could it? They couldn't fight through the past year just to be together only to not be together.

"Quinn," she whispered and rolled over in bed. Her hand fell softly over the bare porcelain back and dragged circles over the muscles beneath.

"Mmm?"

"You awake?"

"Mhm…"

"I need to ask you something," Rachel whispered, shyness overcoming her for the first time in months around Quinn. This was her best friend. Why the need to be shy? But she was, probably because she was terrified. She was terrified because their marathon sex life used to be bred from love, from necessity, from complete and utter attraction. Like the days at the lake house two summers ago when all they did was screw like bunnies.

It was all from love.

What was it now?

"Go ahead, I'm listening," Quinn muttered.

"Do you love me?" she whispered, her heart wrenching hold of her breath and praying the answer freed it again.

Quinn rolled to her back, sent straight to fully aware in a heartbeat's second. Her sleepy eyes narrowed and her jaw clenched before releasing.

"Why are you asking me that?"

"I think I'm just… I feel confused."

"About?"

"About us. It feels… I don't know the words. I don't know what to say or do. Why do I never know what to say to you?" she huffed and ran a hand through her hair.

"Everything's fine, Rach," Quinn muttered and forced a smile.

Quinn hated forcing anything. She loved touching Rachel, seeing Rachel, loving Rachel, but she hated forcing smiles. She hated forcing her heart back in the cage every time it tried to fly out and speak its mind. Every time it wanted to burst open and explain itself, beg for commitment, beg for promise, and beg for a future, she slammed it shut, locked the door and drowned the key in her fear.

"You promise?" Rachel pleaded, those innocent eyes fearful with hope unseen.

"I promise. And I love you. I'm still in love with you. Everything I felt the day I kissed you, the day you put on the nuns costume and sang for me, the day we had our first date, it all-"

Quinn snapped her mouth shut before her word vomit took her over.

"It all what, Bee?"

She gulped.

"It all remains, okay?" Quinn choked out against her will. "It's all there."

"Pinky promise," Rachel smiled and thrust out her pinky.

Quinn's heart cried; she was adorable, perfect, and remarkable. Everything about her screamed forever, so why did her heart not take her there?

She pulled her hand out from under the covers and wrapped her pinky softly around Rachel's.

"We keep talking, okay? We have to keep talking," Rachel pleaded.

But they weren't talking, not really.

* * *

><p>Two days later, that same thought solidified itself once more in Quinn's head, just as it did in Rachel's. Brunette hair bobbed between her legs and Quinn's eyes rolled back. They rolled all the way back to her birthday junior year of high school: the first time Rachel went down on her.<p>

She pretended everything was the same. She closed her eyes and wished.

Her heart felt light, chuckles filled the air, danger filled their fears, and a scared, excited tongue ran through her.

Now it was a tongue needing to be closer. It was a tongue needing to be inside her, further inside her, because all it could do was dig, dig, and dig, but never found anything.

Rachel pushed in deeper, lapped generously and attempted to not cry.

They still weren't talking.

Their hips talked, their tongues talked, and their bodies talked; they said everything the girls wouldn't, but even then they said it wrong. They lied.

They all lied.

"God, that feels good," Quinn moaned and tossed a hand over her face. Visions of seventeen year old Rachel flooded over her. Her heart swam.

And then the door slammed open.

Rachel hit the floor.

Quinn buried herself.

And Puck, along with Janey, gaped.

"Oh, my, god," he groaned, eyes searching and searching for any shred of nudity they could find. Rachel wiped the back of her hand over her mouth and let her quivering eyes find the wall. Quinn shucked her jeans back up her legs under the covers and willed her face to return to pale.

Red just wasn't her color.

"Knock much, asshole?" Quinn snapped.

"Is it sad I can't tell who you're directing that at?" Janey smirked.

"Yes," Rachel muttered and shot Quinn a glare.

Four months since their original argument and the blonde still made no attempt to get to know the redhead. That was also something they talked about without talking about. It joined the rest of their conversations under the rug as the elephant danced around on top.

Soon, he'd fall through.

Rachel knew it.

"Sorry," Quinn muttered and buttoned her jeans before tossing the covers off. She slid to her feet, grabbed her heels and headed for the door. Puck stepped to the right on instinct and Janey remained.

"Where are you going?" Rachel called and hot hazel eyes left daring blues to land on the girl on the floor.

"I have class."

"You didn't have class twenty minutes ago," Rachel said.

"That's when I was having sex. The situation changed."

"Ah, a woman after my own heart," Puck smiled. "Nice to see you, Q."

"Likewise," Quinn muttered and stepped past the beaming redhead. "What are you smiling at?"

"Nothing. Nothing at all."

"I don't like you."

"Quinn!"

She shot eyes to the brunette and instantly softened.

"Call me later," she said and left. The door fluttered shut behind her and three sets of eyes avoided each other like the plague. What was there to say or do or even think?

"Rachel," Puck started. He knew what to say. He knew what to think.

He knew what to do.

"What?"

"Janey, give us a second?" he asked with a smile.

She grinned and nodded sweetly.

"I have dance anyway. I'll be back around seven if everyone wants to get food. Chinese, maybe?"

"Sounds great, Jay," Rachel smiled. "Probably be just the three of us… again."

"Nothing wrong with that," she grinned with a wink. "You'll be okay."

"Thanks," she muttered, let her head fall to her hands and Janey left with a smack to Puck's shoulder. He watched the door close, shoved his fists in his jeans and crawled down to the floor beside his friend.

He let his eyes peel over her; she looked tired. She looked tired like she looked after Lee died. And that fact right there, it set his stomach swirling in circles.

"Rach, let's talk."

Her eyes popped up with a glint behind them.

"You wanna talk?"

"Of course I do."

"About what?"

"Quinn. You. You guys. Your life here," he smiled softly. "Maybe even your father." Quivers took flight over Rachel's chin. Not again, she didn't need this again.

"What about Quinn?"

"What are you two?"

Her mouth dropped open to answer, instinctively, and then shut. She didn't know what they were. She didn't know what Quinn was besides just Quinn.

"I don't know."

"That's not good. I know you and I know you need definition. You need commitment. You need to know what's going on and you need to know what to expect. You're Rachel Berry; you don't fly in the dark."

"I know, but-"

"No. No buts. Why do you not have an answer to that question?"

"Because we don't talk about it. We're just going with the flow," Rachel assured with a small smile, a small deviously not so confident smile.

"It's breaking you."

"I'm not broken. If anything, Quinn fixed me," she huffed. "I was broken this time last year, Noah. I was a shell! She came back and she fixed me."

"Yeah and did she ever tell you why she left in the first place?"

"She apologized."

"That wasn't my question," he touted and she shot to her feet.

"Why are you pushing this? Why are you sitting here picking apart the one girl I've ever loved?" she spat.

"I'm not picking her apart. You know I love Quinn, don't act like I don't. But right now, you're drowning."

"I am not," she choked out, swiped a defying tear and steeled herself.

"Rachel."

"Can you go? I know it's rude to make you leave my dorm in a city where this is your lodging, but just, give me an hour. Can you give me an hour?" she pleaded.

He smiled softly and took to his feet.

"Of course I can. And I'm sorry, for upsetting you. I just care. And I want you to be with someone who cares just the same."

"_Quinn_ cares."

"I know, Rach. I know," he nodded, nothing left to say. He wrapped a strong arm around her neck, pumped her shoulder softly with a fist, and nodded again on his way out.

* * *

><p>Later, across town, Quinn thought about writing, because that's what they did in Composition 102; they wrote even more than they wrote in 101. Her celebrity hot, blue eyed teacher from 101 graced the same desk for 102.<p>

And he still proclaimed such interest in Quinn. Most days she could work it to her advantage. He thought she inspiring, outside the box, and a breath of fresh air. She could pretty much do whatever she pleased. She could show up thirty minutes late because she'd rather sleep with Rachel than "free write" in her journal.

She was a reader. She was a god damn professional reader.

And all he wanted her to do was write.

"Fabray," he chirped from the front.

"Yes?" she muttered.

"Why is your pen twirling between your fingers instead of putting words to the paper?" he called, hopped off the desk and strolled down the aisle to her.

"It's out."

"It's out?"

"My pen ran out of words."

"Smart. Clever, even, but quite incorrect for the assignment you were given," he smiled. She dropped her pen to the desk, shot her eyes north and let loose.

"Here's the thing, _Teach_; I'm a reader. I read books. My mom reads books. It's in my genes. And it's my job, actually. It's been my job since I knew books existed. I don't write. I don't like to write. And everything I do in this class gets me in trouble all the way back to the first damn assignment. My thoughts need to stay inside my head. Do you understand? When they hit paper, they explode. They cause things. And not good things. Okay? So I've decided to be done. My pen ran out, I'm not replacing it, therefore I am done. See how that works? This happened, therefore _that_ results."

"Quinn."

"_What_?"

"Stay after class, please. I want to talk to you about something that I think will reignite you."

"Fantastic," she muttered and let her eyes fall to the windows to her left.

Just fantastic.


	29. Chapter 28 HS August before Senior Year

August - Summer Before Senior Year of High School

_I love you. Let's get lost together. We are lost. But we're together._

When Rachel turned eight, her fathers set her first video camera down in front of her. They set a microphone stand down next. And then they placed a pink, bedazzled mic in her hand.

They sculpted her future as much as it bred itself in her bones. Her young, fascinated eyes shined brightly and she stood from the couch, walked to the stand, clicked on the mic and smiled.

Even at eight, she had a Hollywood smile.

Leroy's hands clasped together, fingers pressed happily to his lips.

Hiram laid a hand over his heart and waited.

They both cried.

And then Rachel opened her mouth and her future fell out. She belonged on stage. She belonged in front of an audience. She belonged in a place where people would applaud. She couldn't breathe without the applause.

She knew this at age eight when her first _real _microphone was placed into her tiny fingers. She knew it even more at nine when she placed first in the annual dance competition- for thirteen year olds. She knew it at ten when the elementary school pushed her into the high school talent show to compete instead of keeping her in the fifth grade show.

She placed second.

And first place was the principle's handicap son.

She still felt robbed, regardless of his capabilities. Sucker.

At eleven, she walked into her first studio with Leroy on her birthday. He pulled the blindfold off her eyes and watched her light up from her toes to the tips of her hair. Her tiny fingers danced over the audio mixing board. Her tiny feet skipped into the recording booth, reached up to knock on the microphone and giggled when it poof, poof, poofed back at her.

It was happiness, she knew.

At twelve, she started recording videos on Youtube. Though her peers ridiculed her, she saw the hits. She saw them watching. She knew they were in awe. It fueled her fire even more.

When she hit thirteen, she grew breasts. This was a bit of a side-tracking moment in her life. What? They were breasts. She still sang and stuff, but they were breasts!

Fourteen came and high school hit. She joined glee. She starred in every play. She wrote a musical. She printed out info-packets for every top music school in the nation. For she was in high school; it was time to prepare. Freshman year went by like music prep boot camp. She sang daily, she planned between singing, and she studied between planning. She needed the grades for acceptance. She needed the extra curricular activities for acceptance.

And the first time she really, one hundred percent needed, not craved, the acceptance was in that scenario, the college application scenario. Appreciated and viewed but not accepted was not good enough.

She would be good enough.

And that pushed her through year fourteen.

And then when she was fifteen, Quinn kissed her.

What? It counted as important. It was everything. It gave her a reason to sing. It gave her something to write about. It gave her a point in life, a point other than music. At sixteen, she researched that point. She opened her heart. She gave herself life.

In the early months of spring, the day she applied to Juilliard, filling out their application and recording her video, Quinn lay on the empty bed beside her. She stood with her nine-year-old birthday microphone stand, bedazzled pink mic and she sang.

She sang her heart out with eyes _on_ her heart: Quinn.

They stayed fixed for strength, for emotion, for power, and for love.

Quinn steadied her. Quinn gave her purpose.

And now, at seventeen, Rachel sat on the island in her kitchen, the blonde's thigh to her right, with a white envelope in her hand.

The postmark read Juilliard Registrar Office.

New York, New York.

_New York, New York. _

Her life built to this moment and all she could hear was Frank Sinatra singing chocolate over her ears. She belonged there. She belonged in the magical concrete land, scrounging for parts, fighting for roles, singing her mind out in need to be the best of anyone anywhere ever.

"What if they don't want me?" she murmured and turned the envelope over in her hands. She ran a finger over the sealed crease and sighed.

"They want you."

"But how do you know? You don't know."

"I know."

"Bee."

"Rach, I know this is hard to imagine, so I'm going to explain it to you, okay?" Quinn stated with a smile and shimmied closer. She looped her arm around the tiny brunette's waist and held tight.

"Listening."

"You've never sat in the audience and looked at you on stage."

"That's physically imposs-"

"You've never _sat_ in the audience and _looked_ at you on stage. You're magnificent. You literally, you and your voice, have the power to rip breaths from onlookers' throats. You rob people of air with your talent. You rob people of this with your emotion, with your voice, with every twitch of nuance in your facial expressions, Rachel. You are the epitome of remarkable the second you step up to a microphone. This is why I know they want you. I would want you if I sat up there in New York in their office. I'd want you immediately just so no one else could have you, just so we wouldn't have to compete _against_ you, because you are perfect. You are one in a million, Rachel,_ just_ like Barbra. They want you. Trust me."

Rachel sighed with a trembling smile and swiped a stray tear.

"I love you."

"I know you do. Now open the envelope," she said and pushed it back into view.

Year seventeen; it would be the kicker.

She ripped open the envelope, unfolded the white letter and read.

She read and read and read, Quinn's hand on her thigh and waiting.

It was the year Quinn went from giving her hope, giving her courage, and giving her a reason to live to actually solidifying her future. She gave her a reason to be great. She gave her a reason to sing. She provided the support.

And she'd lain on her bed, smiling broadly and listening to Rachel croon out "My Man" with smirks, winks, and sultry glances as the camera recorded her.

She might as well have been singing my woman, my girl, my lovely lady.

She might as well have, because Quinn was everything.

"I'm in."

"Rach."

"I'm in! I'm in! I'm in! I'm in!" she screamed through tears and tackled Quinn to the marble counter. She whipped the letter free into the air, turned her focus to the blonde and kissed her, even though a million kisses would never be enough. She tried. She tried to show her thanks. She crawled atop her, settled her body down and made love to her mouth.

She massaged her tongue, licked the roof of her mouth, nipped at those lovely teeth and caressed her lips. Nothing would ever be enough.

"Thank you," she purred.

"Why," she gasped, "on earth are _you_ thanking _me_?"

"You drive me. You give me purpose. You're my heart."

"Mm, I love you," Quinn murmured and pulled their lips back together. Her hands slid up to wrap around the brunette's sides and pull her closer. Rachel melted on top of her, legs twining and chests heaving.

The celebratory kisses turned needy, yearning for more and more.

Quinn hiked her knee up, swung left and rolled them over. Happiness erupted from Rachel in squeals and giggles. Quinn chuckled and grinned as if she'd never grinned before. Looking down at those glistening brown eyes, swollen smiling lips, and rosy red cheeks, she'd never felt more in love or proud.

"I'm so proud to be yours."

"Just wait 'til I'm famous, baby," Rachel smirked. Quinn leaned down and pecked her perfect lips.

"And what will I be?"

"A kept woman."

"What if I don't wanna be kept?" Quinn giggled and rolled her hips into Rachel. The girl's eyes fluttered shut as teeth sank into her lips, her smile quirking up further and further as Quinn continued her movements.

"What do you want?" Rachel murmured.

"An equal. A lover. A wife."

"I'd marry you today if Daddy wouldn't kill you."

"Promise you'll marry me someday."

"We talk a lot about marriage; scared I'm gonna run off?" Rachel smiled and rocked her hips up. "Maybe with Brad Pitt?"

"Says the girl who's never even_ seen_ a penis," Quinn smiled.

"I don't need to see his penis to know I would sleep with him."

"Rachel!"

"It's Brad Pitt, Bee. Let's be serious. We could do him together," she giggled. "Maybe call Angelina in later?"

"Mm, now I'm onboard. I am so onboard," Quinn purred and placed another kiss to the giddy lips below her. "But you never answered me."

"Your lips made me forget the question."

"Hazardous side effect of sexy, sorry."

Rachel giggled, smacked her ass playfully and wrestled for domination of Quinn's legs. They twitched right, left, around and then knocked the salt and pepper shakers off the island to send them shattering to the floor.

They froze.

"What's our deal with glass?" Rachel whispered.

"I know, right? H gonna be pissed?"

"Which ones were they?" she asked and Quinn leaned right to look over the island's edge. White and black shattered glass laid spread throughout salt and pepper all over the floor. She sighed and rolled back onto Rachel.

"The yin and yang, creepy fluid people ones."

"Crap."

"What?"

"Those are the special ones."

"How are they special? They're… hideous."

"They're supposed to represent Dad and Daddy."

"Clever."

"We should-"

"Get _off_ my kitchen counter?" Leroy barked from the doorway. Quinn shot to the right, across the rest of the island, off the edge, and fell smack onto the floor with a thud, face down and palms out.

_Ow._

"Daddy! Guess what?" Rachel wailed and sat up before sliding to edge and smiling broadly.

"You're grounded? For attempting to defile our kitchen!"

"No, Daddy, but-"

"Okay, another guess: You're not to see Quinn anymore?"

"What? Daddy!"

"A third? Am I still guessing or am I just yelling now? Rachel, what the hell! We went out for groceries and come back to Quinn spreading you on our island top! This is not acceptable. This is not even unacceptable; it's despicable, inconsiderate, and disrespectful!"

"What in heaven's name is all the yelling about?" Hiram stuttered while wandering into the kitchen.

"I caught that girl on top of Rachel _on_ the island."

"_That girl!_ Daddy! Stop it!"

Hiram turned to Rachel, curious eyes spanning the empty room.

"All I see is our daughter sitting gingerly on the countertop, Lee. Are you seeing things again? First it's dogs in the street, spiders on the wall, and now our daughter's girlfriend on the island. I might start worrying," he muttered and piled grocery bags on the counter.

"She's flat on the floor behind the island," Leroy spat. Quinn wanted to sink inside herself as Hiram stopped before slowly wandering around the edge of the island. His feet came to trembling, red hands and then bright hazel eyes slowly peeled up from the floor.

Quinn forced a terrified smile.

And Hiram chuckled.

"Why are you laughing?" Leroy barked.

"Lee, relax. They're fully clothed."

"Yeah, because we got home when we did!"

"Daddy, nothing would've happened. It's unsanitary, first of all, and second of all-"

"I don't need a second of all. Grounded," he barked and craned his head around the island. "Quinn!"

She shot to her feet.

"Yes sir!"

"Go home!"

"Yes sir!" she choked and shot towards the door.

"Stop!" Rachel wailed. "Come back here. Now!"

Quinn froze and back pedaled towards the kitchen, across the dining room and landed with her back to the island beside Rachel's legs.

She kept her eyes on the floor; if she looked up she swore the bugs would be swarming. They'd be swarming and a knife would be ree ree reeing its way at her face.

Oh God.

The floor was safe. It was pretty, blue and like…_ light_ blue tiled.

So pretty.

"I told her to go home and you are not to argue with me, Rachel," Leroy demanded, eyes narrowing and brow furrowed.

"Would you stop being a caveman and let me speak!" she squealed.

He gasped, craned his mouth open and oh shit, it was going to happen!

"A cave-"

"Stop!"

"Lee."

"What?"

"Let our daughter have the floor for two seconds!" Hiram demanded, arms across his chest and attention squared on Rachel. "Have at it, baby girl."

"I have news," she huffed.

"Thrilling," Leroy groaned and Quinn shook her head.

He had no idea. He really had no idea.

Leroy watched the blonde shake in disappointment. Something about it stilled his insides. He pulled his eyes back to Rachel and took a calming breath.

"I got a letter from Juilliard today," she stated and Quinn's eyes pulled up. Hiram's hand went to his heart and Leroy's clasped in front, fingers to his lips. Rachel could've been eight years old again for all she knew.

"Tell us," Hiram choked out. "Wait, not yet!"

He looked to Leroy; they took steadying breaths and then looked back to Rachel. This was it. This was their daughter's future.

"Okay, tell us."

Rachel opened her mouth.

"No wait!" Hiram gasped. "God, I can't, I'm sorry, it's just, I-"

"I'm in! I got accepted!" Rachel wailed. "You can breathe, Dad. I'm in."

"She's in," Quinn smiled.

Leroy's eyes spilled over and Hiram's hand joined the other over his heart. Their gazes pulled over Rachel with her big smile, carefree eyes, and outstretched arms.

"I'm in," she whispered and nodded.

"You're in," they muttered. "You're in?"

"I'm in, guys. I'm so in."

"You're in!" they wailed, hugged each other, and then attacked their daughter. Hugs, kisses, screams, and shouts abounded. Quinn had never seen a happier family in her life. She hoped one day it was just like her own, full of happiness and support and love. She wanted that. She needed that.

She needed that with Rachel by her side.

Leroy pulled back from his daughter, looked over his shoulder and met Quinn, the girl who previously spread his daughter out on their island.

He gulped and stretched out a hand.

Quinn grinned, gripped it, and he yanked her into the huddle.

The squeals sounded all over again and Rachel reveled in it; she never wanted to forget what it felt like to be loved, accepted, and wanted all at the same time and in all the best ways. The feeling continued for hours.

It continued after a gigantic celebratory meal, a gigantic celebratory round of karaoke, and a gigantic celebratory circle of speeches full of congratulations to Rachel.

They lay outstretched sideways across her bed, exhausted with all the celebrating and still just as happy. Quinn tickled a toe to Rachel's shoulder and the brunette brushed a foot across Quinn's forearm monotonously. Sometimes life provided moments where all that was expected of you was to be. Just be.

It was one of those moments for the couple. Heads opposite each other, eyes drifting around and ceiling fan whirring above, nothing else mattered than breathing.

"We're growing up," Rachel murmured.

"I'm proud of you."

"You'll be there with me."

"I know I will."

"Columbia will come back with an acceptance any day now."

"Probably not until the fall, but I know they will. I know, love," Quinn whispered. "I'll be there. Nothing will stop me."

"I love you."

"You're all I need."

"I love you."

"Can you picture us there? We'll be like a Woody Allen film."

"I _so_ love you."

"We'll drink coffee, relax in Central Park, stroll down the streets, grab Chinese in the middle of the night, and live it up. We'll live it up like no one ever did. Rachel Berry and Quinn Fabray. Watch out now."

"_Man_, I love you."

"I'll bring you flowers after performances. You'll visit me at Columbia. I want Wallach Hall. I hope I get Wallach Hall. It has a pia-"

"Do you realize how much I love you?"

"I do."

"My dads love you, too."

"H, maybe."

"Daddy, too," Rachel smiled at the ceiling. "He tells me when you're not here. He calls you 'other daughter' to Dad when they think I can't hear. He loves you, Bee. He does."

"I love him, too," she whispered. "But don't ever tell him, okay? I need to keep my edge."

"You never had an edge."

"How's he been feeling?" Quinn muttered.

"Saw another spider. I went to kill it; nothing was there. What do you think that means?" she wondered.

"Dad switched off caffeine. He was feeling a little funny. Maybe that's it? Maybe he should quit the Coke."

"Saying it like that sounds like he's a druggie," Rachel giggled. "But that may be it. You're so smart. You should be a scientist. Or you should be a doctor. Be a surgeon!"

"I want to be a book reader," Quinn grinned, imagining her life surrounded by volumes.

"Like an editor?"

"Like an editor."

"Really?" Rachel smiled.

"Mhm."

"Quinn Fabray, Senior Editor. I could see that."

"Could you?"

"Would you wear pant suits?" Rachel smirked.

"Would you still sleep with me if I did?"

"Yes."

"Then yes," Quinn laughed. "But sexy ones. Classy ones. Like, like hot smart girls wear."

"You're not that smart."

"I'm brilliant."

"Not brilliant enough," Rachel giggled.

"Final counts for Valedictorian have not come back yet, Smuggy Mc Smuggerson. Chill."

"I don't need the final count to know I'm smarter than you," Rachel taunted and dug her toenail into Quinn's arm. The blonde yelped and jerked away before rolling over and crawling up Rachel. Squeals erupted as she tried to squirm away. Quinn flopped onto her, immediately going Dead Dog and trapping her under the dead weight.

"Ugh, Quinn!" Rachel growled and tried to shove the lump of body mass off her as the blonde chuckled.

"Quinn's dead. Sorry. Try back later."

"Quinn!"

"You can leave a message."

"I'm gonna leave a long, bleeping message after the bleep if you don't get off me!"

"Mmm, I'm intrigued. Bleep away, Patti."

"You're so heavy, heifer. Come on Quinn, off!" Rachel growled and finally heaved her off. She gasped for air and stretched her limbs wide. Quinn giggled into the mattress below, face smashed, nose crinkled, and insides eternally happy and light. With a smile, she flung herself up, Rachel gasping at the sudden movement, and shot to her jacket on the door.

"What are you doing? You can't leave!"

"I'm not leaving, clinger. Relax."

"That wasn't very nice," Rachel pouted.

"From the girl who just called me heifer? Okay," Quinn muttered and dug into her pocket. She gripped the box and looked to Rachel. "Close your eyes."

"Why?"

"Don't be Rachel Berry for two seconds, please, and just close your eyes."

"Ouch," she muttered and let her eyes fall shut. Quinn pulled the jewelry box out of her pocket, skipped back to the bed and climbed up in front of Rachel. She shifted as close as she could, knees touching knees, and held the box out, palms up, in front of Rachel.

"Okay, love. Open them."

Rachel's eyes pulled open slowly and wonder flashed over her face.

"What is this?"

"A box…"

"What's it do?"

"Christ, how you got Valedictorian over me will forever elude me. It's a box, Rachel. It does nothing but hold stuff. Open it."

"Oh!" she chirped with a grin and set her dainty fingers down on its edges. With one last look to Quinn, she creaked the lid open and gasped.

A diamond encrusted treble clef necklace shined back at her. A pink diamond accentuated the bottom peak and a larger diamond brightened the top. It hung on a silver chain, she _thought_. She thought. She could barely see through her tears. All she saw were shining diamonds, treble clef diamonds.

Her eyes pulled up to Quinn's.

"What is this?"

"Congratulations," Quinn smiled and wiped tears off Rachel's cheeks.

"But, but I got the letter _today_. Did Daddy help you get it when he went out after?" she whimpered and swiped more tears, eyes locking back on the gorgeous piece of jewelry beaming up at her.

"No, love."

"So when?"

"I bought it six weeks ago."

Rachel shot back to her.

"_Six_ _weeks ago_? But, but…" she stuttered, eyes filling again.

"I knew you'd get it, plain and simple. So it's been sitting in my pocket for six weeks, just waiting for the letter to arrive. It was waiting to be yours, inevitably."

"Quinn."

"Inevitably, Rach. You were made for this," she whispered and placed a kiss on her lips. "And I was made for you."

"God, Quinn Fabray…"

"What?"

But there were no words.

She had no words. She had no words anymore for the girl who sat in front of her. The words didn't exist even though she tried. She'd forever try for the blonde. Because she was perfect, beautiful and astounding: Quinn freaking Fabray.


	30. Chapter 29 Freshman Yr College March

March - Freshman Year of College

_Can we change the music? It's making me nauseated._

To Quinn, New York City meant Rachel Berry. New York City meant books. It meant music. It meant freedom. New York City meant a lot. But somewhere along the line, it stopped meaning books, it stopped meaning music, and it stopped meaning freedom.

It only meant Rachel Berry.

Somewhere, she didn't know where, she became all about Rachel. Rachel's happiness was her happiness and her happiness spread into Rachel being happy and then that spread back into Quinn. It was a beautiful cycle upon first glance. And then Rachel's happiness stopped being her happiness.

And Quinn found she had no happiness left.

Even in the basement of Ford and Gunder, sitting on a stool and surrounded by manila envelopes full of wannabe manuscripts, she found herself unhappy. Why? She didn't know.

She loved Rachel. She was _in love_ with Rachel.

Sometime after the night of the Roxy when she had to have the girl right then, things clicked off course. They clicked off their predetermined track and nothing felt right anymore.

Her heart still ached for the girl. She needed goodnight phone calls. She thought about her when her eyes first cracked open in the morning. She dreamed about her. She craved her touch.

But something fell out of whack. Their perfect existence failed to jive like it did in high school. She knew it was because they never got back to what they were. They tried. They slowly tried. But there was Leroy's wreckage and her wreckage.

And then there was her Composition 102 movie star teacher and his words. She didn't know what to do anymore. She looked around the storage annex, rows and rows of shelved pitches, hooks, books, scripts, and more. Words surrounded her, yet she couldn't buy a vowel to save her life. She stepped off the stool, walked away from her desk and wandered down no aisle in particular.

The low, energy-saving lights flickered above as she padded down one aisle, fingers running over bind spines to her left. One book, two book, three book, four, she watched her fingers fall from entry to entry.

Rachel loved her.

She did.

She begged for clarification, talking, and more. Quinn tried to say everything she wanted to get out. She tried saying it through sex. She failed. She tried saying it through texts. She failed. She even showed up to Rachel's dorm one day, stood in the hall outside her door, set the portable speakers on the floor, hovered over "Play" on her iPod and took a breath.

She failed at serenading as well.

Her finger wouldn't hit play.

It wouldn't give her release.

Nothing would give her heart release, nothing would crack open her cage and set her words free. She wanted Rachel and wanted her forever. She wanted to cry her eyes out over Leroy. She wanted to weep for forgiveness. She wanted to beg for an eternity by Rachel's side.

Never leave me, she'd say.

Never leave me.

But she knew Rachel would. Every day reminded Quinn that Rachel would. Every new role she landed, every ecstatic reenactment of a moment in class where Rachel outshined her peers, every single remark by a teacher about her impending stardom reminded Quinn that one day Rachel would explode.

When Quinn stepped forward that day when they were fifteen and pressed her lips to the girl's, she knew Rachel would explode.

She knew it the day Rachel got her acceptance to Juilliard. She knew it the day she joined glee. She even knew it the moment they met in eighth grade when Rachel posted a Youtube video and Quinn couldn't pull her eyes away. And even if she did, that voice flooded her ears. It entered her dreams.

It captured her heart.

She knew that Rachel would explode; it's just that back then, she figured she'd be beside her. She figured they'd be hand and hand. She figured she was made for the girl.

But what if she wasn't?

What if she wasn't made for Rachel? What if Rachel was made for greatness and Quinn was made for books, words, and imagination?

What if Quinn was all about imagination?

What if she'd imagined…

She closed her eyes and let her fingers fall from spine to spine to spine, one after the next and over again. Her feet padded further, her chest grew lighter. She loved it in that basement. It freed her mind of wondering.

It let her loose in her imagination.

She got to read words, the words she couldn't find. She read romance after romance after romance. They all spouted the words she needed. They spouted the words she craved. But it all came back to that one thought:

What if Rachel left?

What did Quinn have without Rachel? What did Quinn have without the love of her life? Wasn't life supposed to be built around a group of pillars and not just one? Weren't the heroines in these books fighting for more than just their men? Weren't they strong, passionate, and driven for things other than love?

And didn't love come along with those things?

It came when they stopped looking.

It always came when they stopped looking.

Maybe Quinn would stop looking. Maybe she'd stop trying to force her heart to say the words she wanted to say, the words Rachel needed to hear, and instead she'd… she'd…

What would she do?

What was life outside of Rachel Berry? She'd known nothing of it since she was fifteen. She learned to drive beside the girl. She learned to love beside the girl. She learned sex. She learned passion, dreams, and tragedy.

She learned heartache. She learned everything, life, beside Rachel Berry.

So what would happen to her, when said life walked away?

It would happen. She knew it would happen.

It happened once. Rachel walked away.

And it would happen again.

It would happen again.

It would.

And she'd be left without a life because her life was Rachel Berry. Rachel had her at Sister Mary Roberts and she never let her go. She never let her breathe, but in the most wonderful way. She was everything. She was all Quinn knew besides books. Quinn knew stories. She knew stories.

She knew how hers and Rachel's story would end.

She did.

Rachel got fame, stardom, dreams come true… and Quinn got a front row seat from the sidelines. Quinn got the sidelines, aching heart in her hands and regrets behind her lids. They'd break each other. They would. She'd resent Rachel for the attention and time spent away and Rachel would resent her for the implication. They'd break each other. There was a reason couples never lasted through Hollywood.

And they wouldn't break the mold.

They weren't special.

Were they?

She opened her eyes and spun around, running her other hand down the opposite spines and wandered back down the aisle.

Their story was cliché, however tragic. Talented duckling gets the popular cheerleader. Cheerleader falls head over, duckling hits it big.

Cheerleader finds ordinary.

Duckling finds the stars.

She knew their story. All of the world knew their story.

She swiped a tear off her eye and picked up her pace, book after book passing under her fingers.

Maybe if she had more than Rachel Berry, she could keep Rachel Berry.

Maybe?

Maybe if she had excitement, wonders, and larger than life dreams, she could hold on to her. Just maybe. All she wanted was to hold on to the girl. It's all she wanted. Maybe she could find the path to make it happen. Maybe she could make something of herself. Maybe she could push them back to that day in Rachel's bed after her acceptance when all they envisioned was themselves as equals. Maybe she could be an equal. Maybe she could impress Rachel Berry. Maybe she could match her.

Maybe she could bring something to the table.

Maybe, just maybe, she could light Rachel's insides on fire just as Rachel lit hers when she opened her mouth and sang. Maybe she could find greatness.

Maybe she could make the girl proud.

Maybe that would keep her?

Maybe?

* * *

><p>"Sweetheart?" Rachel whispered and pecked Quinn's sleeping face.<p>

The blonde's ears woke first, that voice pooling over her dreams. And then her heart woke, aching for more of the sound. Her brain followed, wishing for another era.

"Quinn?" she heard again, her eyes refusing to open and see that beautiful face. "Bee? Baby?"

Her heart wanted to bawl. It wanted to break open and bawl.

And then lips pressed down on hers. They pulled softly, slowly, delicately. And her heart did rip open. It ripped open and poured free, releasing every ounce of bottled emotion it ever tried to contain. Her eyes followed, tears pouring down her face. Those lips kept pulling. They caressed her, barely touching, ever there.

"I love you," she heard again. "I love you more than anything."

She willed her brain back to sleep. She willed her heart to repair.

She willed her ears to shut down.

* * *

><p>"It's noon, love," came again. "It's time you wake up."<p>

Her eyes fluttered open.

It was time to see. It was time to try. It was time.

They fell on brown saucers, a wide smile, and ruby cheeks.

"I adore you," fell out of her mouth before she could stop it.

The saucer eyes softened further.

"You're everything to me, you know that, right?" she said again.

"I know, Bee."

"Do you?"

Rachel balked, concerned eyes jumping from lips to eyes to lips.

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing."

"Quinn."

"Nothing, baby. There's nothing wrong," she whispered and leaned forward, capturing those lips with hers. They felt like heaven against her skin. They felt like the first time they touched Quinn's. It was perfectly nostalgic and heart wrenching. She grinned wide and kissed her harder. Rachel struggled to keep up, drowning in the unknown and swimming in the need.

"B-"

"Kiss me."

Rachel pushed down into her, tilted her head and gave her everything. She didn't know what was happening, who the renewed blonde was that woke from the same sleep a different blonde fell into, or where it was heading, but she didn't care. Quinn was kissing her like it was the first time she'd ever kissed her.

Rachel opened her mouth further and let Quinn's tongue slide inside.

Unlike last week, it massaged her softly. It flicked playfully against her teeth. It captured and danced and allowed.

It sent fireworks of love through Rachel's heart, down her veins and exploding from her fingertips. She reached up, gripped Quinn's neck and pressed harder, needing more, needing it deeper and faster.

Quinn moaned into her, wrapped arms around her neck and hugged her tightly. She hugged her like it was the first time she'd ever felt those tiny shoulders so close, like it was the first time she'd felt those breasts against hers, like it was the first time that stomach fluttered with nerves and excitement against her skin.

It took her exploded cage and sent it packing.

Her mouth opened wide for air and moved Rachel to kiss down her jaw, neck, and collar with renewed passion, want and desperation.

Her Quinn was back. She was back. And Rachel wanted every inch of her.

Quinn's mouth fell open yet again, the words on her tongue and the images of Rachel walking away in her head. Come out words, just come out. Fall off her tongue, negate the image and prove the brain wrong.

Prove the books wrong.

Prove the cliché wrong. They could last, they could be together.

Just beg; beg for all it's worth.

But nothing came.

Her mouth clamped shut and her eyes rolled back as Rachel moved fingers to the hem of her tank. They slipped underneath, slid up her hot skin and palmed her bare breasts. Her head lulled back into the pillow and all the images vanished.

"Make love to me," she begged.

"You'd never have to ask," Rachel whispered, placed a soft kiss on her lips and pulled her tank off. She ripped her own shirt off, threw her hair up, jumped up to the lock the door, stripped her sweats off and lay back down.

"I'm asking," Quinn panted.

"I'm obliging, baby," Rachel purred and settled on top of her. Their lips reattached, necks craned for more and hearts ripped through their chests and slammed into each other. Over and over, they slammed, as Rachel yanked Quinn's shorts off, threaded her underwear down her legs and slid a bare hand through her folds.

Quinn's back arched at the touch and Rachel's lips latched on to the nipples displayed in front of her. One after the next, she tweaked and worshipped them. She hadn't touched them with her mouth in months. Something about it seemed too intimate and intimate was not what they were anymore.

Until now.

Quinn's fingers laced through her long locks and her thumbs traced circles over her ears. It calmed Rachel's pounding heart and put a sweet song in her head. Love was all they needed.

It was all they ever needed.

Right?

"Baby," she whimpered and slid two fingers inside the blonde. Quinn careened under her touch, arms sliding north to grip the bed rail and teeth sinking into her lip.

"Mhm?"

"Tell me I'm all you'll ever need."

Quinn froze, images flooding back over her.

"Tell me love is all we need," she whispered again, placing sweet, soft kisses over the clenching stomach beneath her. Her fingers pumped in and out, in and out, slowly and surely building the fire inside her love.

"Love is all we need," Quinn murmured, forcing her eyes shut and her brain off. She flipped the switch off and left it. No thoughts. No thoughts now, no images now, no wondering now.

Just love making.

"Come here," she begged and reached out to the brunette. Rachel smiled, her every need coming true, and let Quinn pull her down against hot skin.

She slowed her fingers, needing it to last, last forever.

Quinn clenched around her, rocking her hips up and down against her hand. It was the most beautiful thing she'd seen all year. She looked down the blonde's body and back up to find dark, scared, hazel eyes boring into her.

"You okay?" Rachel panted.

"I'm so scared," she cried.

"What are you scared of?"

"Losing you."

"I'm here."

"What about later?"

"I'll always be here."

"What about-"

But Rachel leaned down and kissed her. And any other moment, Quinn would've welcomed it. She would've relished in those lips on hers. She would've prayed they'd never leave.

But not this time. This time, all the kiss did was shut off her spout.

Her words were flowing, her pleading was building, and her insecurities on their way to pouring out… and Rachel cut them off. She cut them off with a kiss meant to diminish them.

Quinn watched them disappear into their cage, lock the door and swallow the key.

She clamped her eyes shut to stifle the mental image of said key, but found a new one. It smashed her apart, flattened her being, and failed to release her. She was so close. She was so close to slipping out from under it.

But there it was; Rachel walking away.

Rachel would walk away.

And she'd have nothing.

* * *

><p>A day later, she found her feet taking her into Composition 102.<p>

She found her hot teacher reclined in his chair, feet on his desk, and arms crossed behind his head. His eyes peeled open and bright blue diamonds sparkled over her.

He was beautiful. He was alive. He was inspiring.

"Quinn, my favorite defiant blonde!"

"Teach."

"Have you thought about it?" he asked, kicked his feet off the desk and straightened up, smile on his face and a hope in his heart.

Her hands twitched in front of her stomach. She clenched them away.

When it failed to stop the trembling, she shoved them into her pockets and let her moist eyes find the wall.

"Yes," she murmured, bile rising in her stomach. Something in her told her it was a mistake. Something in her told she'd regret it for the rest of her life.

But everything else in her told she needed it.

She needed it more than anything. She needed it to save them.

If they had any chance to be saved at all.

"And what did you decide?" he smiled and cocked an eyebrow.

"I'll do it."

"Really?"

"Yeah, yes, sure. Sign me up," she muttered.

"It's done."

"Great. Can I go?"

"Um, well, sure. Yeah. That's all I need," he smiled, a bit confused.

"Thanks," she said with a frown and turned on her heel. What had she done? What on earth had she done? And why couldn't it get here quicker?

"Quinn."

"Yeah?" she spun around.

"Don't worry. You'll love it."

"What?"

"Madrid."

"Thanks…"


	31. Chapter 30 HS Senior Year September

Hey ladies and gent! I have one gent so far. SCORE. He's great, though. Haha! :D

Okay, after talking it over with my few writer circle girls who read everything I write as I write, I've decided to give you all of the 30s in one big launch. They're touch, emotional, and deal with the demise in both time lines as you all know and are expecting. I didn't want to spread that kind of emotional heartbreak out over a week for you guys. I like feeling happy in my personal life and writing some of these- well, it didn't let me feel happy. SO. We are going to do it one full swoop so those of you who want to read it all at once can do so, deal with it and then breathe. And those of you who still want to read one at a time or whatever, that's fine, too. We'll pick up with 42 in a couple days so people have time to catch up.

Enjoy and I appreciate all of you! XO Dylan PS- There is one tongue in cheek mention in here that I found fun. You'll get it. :)

* * *

><p>September - Senior Year of High School<p>

_Park he__re, the sun's setting._

"Can you believe it's happening?" Rachel murmured into her shoulder.

"No, Short Stack. I can't."

"I'm gonna be famous."

"Yes, you are."

"I'm gonna be a star."

"Yes, you are."

"I'm gonna sing."

"Forever."

"And so loud…"she murmured.

Her eyes lulled shut again as dreams turned reality wafted over her.

Quinn looked down at the peaceful, innocent face on her shoulder. Rachel breathed easily, smiled in her near sleep, and would slowly, surely start snoring. Quinn loved the snoring.

She grinned and pulled her focus to the front of the car; her parents sat in the front seats singing softly to the radio, luggage stacked in the middle seats like normal and wind whipped through the cracked windows as they powered down the endless highway.

She missed the Berrymen and still couldn't understand them bailing on visiting Juilliard with their daughter. An annual physical the weekend your daughter is scheduled to visit college? Come on, now. She didn't buy it.

She didn't buy it for a second. They were planning something.

And she knew it had to be something huge; maybe they were throwing her a party for when they got back. Maybe they'd open the door to banners and screaming and congratulations from all her friends. That seemed more plausible. Hiram beamed pride and Leroy threw parties in his sleep.

They would dance, sing, and shout pride over music.

She smiled just thinking about it as her eyes peeled down to Rachel, mouth cocked open and light snores falling out. She smirked, bit her lip and placed a kiss on her forehead.

Today was the first day of the next era. Today it began.

* * *

><p>"I'm here. I'm in New York City. Bee!"<p>

"Stack!"

"Bee!"

"Stack!"

"_Girls._ Enough screaming," Russell muttered.

"Oh, Russ, let them be excited. Look how big it is, Rachel," Judy gushed from her window, eyes peeling up to roll over The Juilliard School. Modern and pristinely angled architecture flooded over them. Rachel's eyes slid over the angles and across the windows and traced the name.

It was beautiful.

It was so perfect.

"Look at it, love," Quinn grinned.

"I am," she whispered, heart racing and eyes drowning in appreciation, respect and excitement. She was here. She was finally here. And just look at it.

_Look at it._

Students hovered around the edges, skipped up the curved steps, and chatted amongst them. What they talked about, she wondered. What did Juilliard kids talk about? Broadway? Music? Boys? Girls? Their families?

Look at them.

And New York City, look at you.

Rachel couldn't pick her favorite thing: the crowded streets, the blazing horns, the speeding taxis, the music kids, the angled glass, or the skyscrapers? She couldn't stop looking around.

And Quinn couldn't stop looking at Rachel.

Because, god, just look at her.

* * *

><p>"We'll pick you up at ten, is that good?" Judy called out her window.<p>

"That's kinda late," Rachel cringed. "Maybe seven or so? We could have dinner."

"Seven would be good," Quinn agreed.

"I'm gonna say," Judy started again and a taxi wailed behind her. She swung her upper body out her window, threw up her middle finger and scowled. "In _Ohio_, we have a thing called manners, dammit!"

"Judy."

"Manners!"

"Jude."

"You could learn to-"

"Judy!"

She swung back in the car and focused her attention to Rachel and Quinn on the curb, amused smiles gracing their faces.

"So ten!" she grinned. "You guys hit the tryout and then explore and stuff! Make friends. But be safe, no leaving the campus. Promise?"

"Yes, mother," Quinn smiled.

"No problem, Judy. And thank you, again, for coming," Rachel murmured and tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear.

Judy found her heart growing at the sight. It grew, warmed, and ached.

"I love you girls."

"Same," Russell called.

They giggled at the parents and gave sweet nods before waving goodbye. Quinn watched the Explorer pull away into busy 65th Street. Something about it set heavy with the blonde. Maybe because it was the first time they were there, and alone, and off to attempt getting Rachel into the Summer Music Program.

Something about it felt real, as if nothing before today really was.

And then said brunette stepped into her view with the biggest smile spread across her face.

"What?" Quinn laughed.

"Guess what?"

"What?"

"That street right there," Rachel said, spinning them towards the intersection to the right. "It's Broadway."

"Like Broadway Avenue?"

"Just Broadway."

"And _the_ Broadway is _on_ Broadway, right?" Quinn questioned. Rachel beamed and nodded. "So that's it; that's your future right there in an intersection."

"Well, blocks north and inside theatres, but yes. However, that wasn't my point," she smirked and stepped into Quinn.

"What was your point?" the blonde whispered and shuddered as arms wrapped around her waist and yanked her close.

"Guess where Broadway leads?"

"You tell me."

"Straight to Columbia."

"Really?" Quinn smiled.

"Mhm. I don't know, like forty or some odd blocks north."

"Forty!"

"That's nothing, sweetheart. Don't fret," Rachel grinned and tightened her hold, bringing those addictive lips even closer. Not caring who saw, not caring if Mrs. Beasley was on her porch about to witness, and not caring if a teacher happened to be out grocery shopping made Quinn grin. She flat didn't care.

Not that she really cared all that much before, but right there at Broadway and 65th, she didn't care at all. She leaned forward, snuck fingers behind Rachel's neck and pressed their lips together.

When a moan slipped from Rachel, Quinn knew she didn't care either.

It was glorious, freeing, and liberating; they were on their way to adulthood, dreams, and just… life. They could kiss in the street because no one cared. They could make love in their dorms, because no one cared.

"I wanna lay you down right here," Rachel purred into her mouth.

"Mm, tempting, but-"

"But whaaat," Rachel whined, slipped her tongue inside quickly to flick playfully at Quinn and then pulled back to release her most adorable frown ever.

"God, you're really, really tempting."

"But…"

"But you have a tryout to nail. You have people to impress, a hoity toity director to make bow down!"

"He's not a director."

"Whatever."

"No, no, no. As a future star's future wife, you need to learn the lingo. He is the casting supervisor."

"And if you get cast?"

"Then I'm part of the cast," Rachel stated obviously.

"Cast for what exactly?"

"Whatever play the summer group decides to put on. I'm hoping for Rent! It could be Rent right?" she beamed, twirled and thrust her hands out in sheer joy. "I'd make the most perfect Maureen, don't you think?"

"Had your birth-mother not played her first, maybe."

"Clearly it's in my genes."

"I wanna be in your jeans," Quinn cooed with a giggle. "Promise me later I get to be in your jeans."

"You mean when we're in the double bed next your parents in the same hotel room?" Rachel cocked an eyebrow. Quinn froze, finger tapping her chin and eyes wandering through her thoughts.

"Okay, so maybe before then."

"How about after I try out? We can grab dinner, mingle, maybe find the library, and check out some books…" she smirked.

"When you say _check out some books_, you mean…"

"Take you against them?"

"Mm, I knew I loved books for a reason," Quinn beamed, hooked Rachel's arm in hers and steered them down 65th. "Why have we never done it in a library before?"

"Wouldn't that be like doing it in church?" Rachel bemused.

"If church made me wet, yes."

"Quinn!"

"What? It's true!" she laughed. Rachel giggled, images rolling over her, as they wandered through campus looking for the tryout hall. When they came to a black skirted, red scarf adorned and bespectacled woman with a clipboard standing at the fourth door, Rachel figured they'd found it.

"Hi! My name is Rachel Berry and this is Quinn Fabray. I'm here for-"

"Tryouts, right. Fill this out," the woman barked, thrust a form into Rachel's hand and smacked a sticky number to the front of her blouse.

"Oh, okay. That's… good," she stuttered.

"Jen Fabray, here you go," the woman hissed, thrust a form into her hand and smacked the next number to her chest.

"Oh, that's…" Quinn muttered and looked down. "Nice. Sixty-nine," she smiled at Rachel with a hint of a giggle attack coming on. "Look at me; I'm trying out, too."

"Are you not?" Vanessa, according to her plated nametag, snapped.

"No, not even a little," Quinn laughed. Vanessa reached forward and ripped the sticker tag off Quinn's chest. She careened under the pressure and Rachel choked back a laugh.

"No guests," Vanessa ordered. "Rachel, go on in. They'll be to you eventually. They're on number seven now."

"Oh, wow. Seven. Okay. And I'm," she looked down, "number sixty-eight."

Quinn's gaze fell to the ground.

"How long until it's my turn?" Rachel mumbled, worried eyes falling on the blonde.

"Whenever sixty-seven is done," she smirked. "Go on."

Vanessa stuck a hand against Rachel, pushed her through the door, let it fall shut behind her and then stared down at Quinn. "What?"

"Ugh, is there somewhere, um, I can wait?" Quinn mumbled.

"You're quite an eloquent girl, aren't you?"

"Well _you're_ quite a bitch."

"Excuse me?"

"Did I stutter _that_ time?" Quinn snapped.

Vanessa narrowed her eyes and debated sparing the girl.

Nope, not this time.

"Listen, I'm going to give you the best advice you're ever going to hear, okay?" she drawled, slithering closer and cocking a smirk. "There is nowhere for you to wait. This is not uncommon. Do you know why this is not uncommon? Because talent associates with talent." Her fiery gray eyes dropped to the sticker-mussed threads on Quinn's shirt. "And clearly, you are not talent. The faster you learn _not _to wait, the better."

The words hit Quinn like a brick wall. They hit her, a seventeen year old, like she'd never been hit before. And she grew up listening to Sue.

"I'm not _just_ her friend," Quinn spat.

And Vanessa laughed. She craned her head back and laughed like it was the saddest, funniest thing she'd ever heard.

It was the last reaction Quinn expected.

"Oh, sweetheart," Vanessa giggled through evil, "that's even worse."

Quinn's chin took flight to Quivertown and never looked back.

"Are you going to cry now?"

"No."

"Because you wouldn't be the first. And you won't be the last."

"Could you stop talking now?"

"Why? Dashing your dreams? Did you even have any or were you planning on riding hers to the top, should she actually be able to hack it."

"I said stop talking."

"You're the one still standing here. This is my post, my spot, my job. You get to walk away. So go on now, walk away. Shit, walk away before _she_ walks away. It'll hurt a whole… a whole lot less," she chided over a small stutter, grey eyes finding the ground a split second longer than Quinn figured she planned.

It all made sense in that half second.

"It happened to you, didn't it?" Quinn muttered. "That's why you're being so mean. You got left behind."

"I work at fucking Juilliard."

"As a door girl."

"And I'm not being _mean. _This isn't the playground. This is New York fucking City, blondie. You know nothing about me."

"And you know even less about me or even Rachel."

"Quite true, probably, but I know your type. I know the mold you're cut from because I've seen thirty of you today already. And those same thirty will be single within a year. And last year I saw about forty. And the year before that it was twenty, but only because acceptance levels were low. So you see; I do know you because you're cut from the same slab as all the hanger-onners to the sixty-eight pieces of talent inside. Do you understand or should I repeat myself yet again?"

Her brain shut down and her heart dragged slower.

And when her next words fell out, they barely made a sound.

"You're the rudest person I've ever met."

"Welcome to the city. Call me a bitch again and see what happens."

Quinn willed her tears to give her sixty more seconds. All she needed was sixty seconds. She tossed her messenger bag over her shoulder and stormed down the street. To where, she had no clue.

But sixty seconds later, her eyes erupted right along with her heart.

* * *

><p>Three hours later, Quinn found herself on a bench outside Johnny's Pizza Pub, famous pizza in her hand and a soundless phone in her lap.<p>

Vanessa was right. She was so right.

Was she right?

She couldn't be right.

And Rachel sat in the near empty auditorium, bags banished under their seats and number thirty-two singing her heart out on stage.

Number thirty-two.

She looked at her watch: 7:20pm.

Her heart ached with worry and she prayed Quinn hooked back up with her parents. She prayed she wasn't pissed. She prayed she wasn't reading into it. She just prayed.

* * *

><p>When ten o'clock rolled around, Judy and Russ pulled back up to the curb on 65th and Broadway. They expected an elated couple, a couple who couldn't keep their hands off each other. But instead, they found Quinn on the sidewalk, back against a lamp post, face streaked with tears and chest heaving with gasps.<p>

"Russell!" Judy wailed, smacked his arm and fled from the Explorer as tires screeched to a halt. Her knees hit the sidewalk with a crack and she pawed at her daughter for cuts, stabs, or injuries. "Baby, what's hurt?"

But Quinn only cried harder. She slumped forward, wrapped her arms around her mother and collapsed into a heap.

"Where's Rachel, honey? Are you hurt?"

"Rachel's _celebrating_."

"Where? And why are you not together?" Judy flew into hysterics.

"Because, Mom… maybe we're not supposed to be."

* * *

><p>The bed at the Da Vinci Hotel swallowed Quinn like a white, fluffy cloud. She closed her eyes, fell into it and saw bright blue sky. She saw birds chirping, airplanes sailing, and Jesus smiling.<p>

Her heart slowed. Her breaths spread. Her mind dissipated into white.

_Dear God_, she whispered into the nothing within her head. _I need help. I need guidance. I haven't prayed in over a year because I've wanted for nothing. Everything of my dreams came true. Everything in my life made sense… until today. _

_ Today I lost myself. Today, a woman with a name plate and red scarf tore the rose-colored goggles off my relationship. You saw her. You heard her._

_ I need to know we're different. I need to know you're going to give us the strength and the love to be different than all the rest. I need to know you're going to instill in Rachel the love that you instill in me for her daily. _

_ I need her to adore me even more than she already does. I need her to never want for anything. I need to be enough. I used to feel like enough. I used to feel made for her. Was I made for her, God? Was I?_

_ It'd really help to know that. She was made for the stage and I was made for her; that's our life design, right? It seemed drawn so perfectly for us. It seemed so unique. Are we unique? Or has our design not even started? Was our design for high school? Were we starting blocks for each other? She gave me courage. I gave her love. She gave me happiness. I gave her acceptance._

_ Is that what we were for? Is this where it ends?_

_ Can you tell me anything at all because I'm drowning here, in your clouds, putting my hopes on a prayer I don't even know you'll hear? I need something, anything, to keep going. The pain of the images flooding my head is ripping my heart to shreds. I used to see her smile and now I see her back. I used to see those eyes lock onto mine as if mine were anchors to hers, but now I see hair swishing in the wind as she walks away._

_ Will she walk away? Will she become bigger than me? Will she need more?_

_ Tell me what she'll need and I'll be it. I can be it. _

_ I can be it._

_ I can be anything._

* * *

><p>Rachel's breath caught in her throat as she quietly slipped her key into the hotel door. She hoped forgiveness would come to mind first. She hoped easy punishments were of routine in the Fabray household. She hoped understanding was number one in the list of reactions.<p>

The lock clicked green below her and she just hoped.

She turned the handle and gently pushed. A black room fell over her and she stepped inside to shut the door silently behind her. Russell's throaty snores hit her ears first. And the low hum of the air conditioning followed.

Her eyes slowly adjusted to the darkness and Judy's nose and eye-mask came into view. Blonde hair pooled every which direction below it. She tip-toed passed their bed and to the corner beside the other. Something in her couldn't bring her eyes down to the other. She couldn't look at the other.

Would she see pained eyes? Angry eyes? The image haunted her since 6:00pm that evening. She saw those scared, angry eyes wandering the streets of New York, sitting alone with her parents, sulking in the hotel, and crying into her pillow. She prayed she was overreacting, but looking… looking would tell her for sure.

8:00pm rolled around and her number was called. She took the stage and was handed a white sheet of paper. Her frightened, yet confident eyes fell to the set of lyrics as the music picked up. It was as if life had built to that moment; she held lyrics to the song her birth-mother perfected in her reign on Broadway. She held lyrics to the song she'd laughed about with Quinn in the street hours earlier. She held lyrics to the lesbian opus in the classic show Rent.

The perfectly connected dots of life made her grin.

And then she opened her mouth and sang.

Everything dissolved to nothing in that moment, words and attitude falling out of her mouth as if she was the original. She commanded the stage as if it was her own. She floored her fellow peers as if they were her audience, there to see her, there to applaud for her, there to congratulate her.

She got the role on the spot, the Casting Supervisor flailing wildly from the orchestra pit. _Our newest star, get ready for Broadway, hello New York City_ of the many phrases to fall from his flamboyant mouth. She'd nailed it like never before.

That enthusiasm poured over her. She found confidence she never knew she had. She was reaching out to her peers, bonding and making plans. She was chatting up other teachers, eager to make an impression. She was the social butterfly queen of all social butterflies.

Suddenly, it was 9:45pm and Andre was explaining the difference between a cabaret show by men and a drag show as they laughed with their new friends and tossed back cappuccino after cappuccino at an artsy coffee dive up the street.

The time hit her and she couldn't whip her phone out fast enough.

Her fingers pounded over the keys: _I got the spot! You won't believe how it all came together. They took us out to celebrate. And I'm so sorry I lost track of time. Are you safe at the hotel? Did you have a fun day? I love you. I miss you. Tell Papa Russ and Juju I have a ride home. I'm sorry, Bee. I'm so sorry. But you won't believe how it all happened. You're going to be so proud. One of the best days of my life, baby._

She hit send after hesitating, wondering what reaction it would cause.

And now, she'd find out.

She pulled her eyes up from the table and focused on her bed.

Quinn lay on her stomach, arms clenching her pillow and face to the wall. Her blonde hair splayed out over her arm and her tank held tight to her torso.

She was gorgeous, as usual.

Rachel sighed, unsure what "asleep and calm" meant in the context of reactions. She wished they'd had their library fun. She wished they'd gotten Central Park cuddling. She wished Quinn could've been there.

She pulled her blouse off, stripped off her bra, and tossed on a t-shirt. After removing her boots, socks and jeans, she padded around the bed and went to pull back the sheets when a piece of paper caught her eye.

She froze and reached for it, pulling it close to her face.

_Congrats._

_Bee_

* * *

><p>The car ride home differed greatly than the ride in. Quinn woke a woman of few words and Rachel woke a woman of many fears.<p>

What did "Congrats" mean? Quinn's notes were long, silly, flirty and playful. And if they weren't notes, they were letters delivered by Fred with a flower attached.

But not this one.

Not, _congrats._

It was as if it's all she could muster out because she thought she had to. And the thoughts that action put into Rachel's head were like nothing she'd felt before. She'd never once been confused by Quinn since they kissed and the blonde smothered that confusion in a heartbeat.

She'd never once doubted how she was feeling, thinking, and she didn't want to start now. But looking to her left, a full seat between them, she saw the girl's chin on her fist and eyes gazing out the window to nothing in particular.

It broke Rachel's heart. She couldn't stand it, the distance, the not knowing. She was never out of the loop; Quinn made sure of it.

Rachel slid left and left and left until her thigh sidled up to the blonde's. Those hazel eyes dropped from the window to Rachel's legs.

"Bee," she whimpered.

Quinn couldn't look at her. She couldn't see those happy, sorrowful eyes staring back at her. It was enough just controlling the new image in her head and the reverberating words from Vanessa's mouth in her ears.

She dropped her hand to Rachel's lap and laced their fingers together, her eyes choosing to peel back to the window instead of to the girl. Rachel dropped her head, defeated, confused, and terrified.

"Bee?" she cried softly.

Quinn clenched her hand and brought it to her chest, cradling Rachel's arm in her own and pulling the girl closer. She held it tight against her body and held her eyes tight on the trees.

Rachel's face dropped to her shoulder.

And it wasn't thirty seconds before Quinn felt her shirt moisten, setting her skin on fire and her heart into pieces.

When they pulled up to the Berry house, an odd sense of relief rushed over Quinn. Ten hours in the car with Rachel with nothing to do but grasp at her hand for dear life meant she needed a break, but it's the last thing she wanted. She needed air, but with Rachel by her side. She needed Hiram and Leroy's happiness, jubilance and celebrations, but with Rachel grinning and smiling and cheering right along with them. She needed her bed, but with Rachel's hand in hers.

She forever needed Rachel's hand in hers.

And a party full of celebration and innocence and pure joy rang perfect.

When they stepped foot in the front door, they found something very different than perfect. They found something very different than celebratory.

Quinn searched for streamers, banners, or friends cheering obnoxiously.

There were none.

She searched for pop-up cakes.

There were none.

She searched for a clown, even. Maybe glee performances.

But there were none.

There was only Leroy and Hiram sitting on the couch, waiting for them.

"We need to talk to you two," Hiram choked out.

Rachel looked to Quinn and then back to her dads.

Quinn watched Leroy swipe at his eyes. Leroy was crying. Leroy had been crying. Why was Leroy crying?

"Daddy?" Rachel whispered. "Why are you crying?"

"I'm sick, baby girl, but I'm so, I'm so proud of you," Leroy whimpered.

And Hiram looked away.

Quinn stopped breathing.

And Rachel dropped her hand.


	32. Chapter 31 Freshman Yr College May

May - Freshman Year of College

_We need to jumpstart the battery._

Often times in life, people find themselves at a crossroad. It they're lucky enough to be living life the right way, they'll find themselves at many crossroads. Decision after decision after decision sits down on the laps of the unexpecting, the unwilling, or the unmoved.

Quinn was the unexpecting.

Sitting in the living room of Noah Puckerman's house as a fifteen year old, she found herself at a crossroad. She looked on to a former enemy singing in a nun's costume and she felt only butterflies.

Months later, she'd be sitting on her own bed, staring at said girl in yet another crossroad: kiss her or lie?

And there was the decision to stop resisting love. She'd let herself go; she'd fall in love. And she did. Next, she could defy a father or choose abstinence. She could apply to school in California or follow her heart to New York. She could write her application essay about overcoming status issues in small town Ohio or she could write what it feels like to love a girl, as a girl.

She could stand beside the love of her life during the rock bottom of the girl's life or she could walk away. She could come crawling back or she could let it go. She could fight for comfort or she could let it go. She could fight to regain trust and love or she could let it go. She could reach for the stars to save them or she could let it go.

Life was all about decisions. None of them killed you, if you were lucky.

None of them were permanent, besides the obvious.

And most of them gave you a fighting chance for some sort of change. Quinn banked on that. She banked on this crossroad giving her change. She banked on it saving them.

Most of her decisions, all but one really, paid off in the past.

She had a record for making the right choices in the grand scheme of things. It would work out, she felt. And now, all that was left was telling Rachel.

She stood tall, flapped the picnic blanket once and watched it flutter to the plush grass in the middle of Central Park. She had a speech planned. It took her a month to write.

She would leave for Madrid in two months to start Fall Semester abroad in Spain. She would be an entire sea away from Rachel Berry and that was worst and the best of it. She never wanted to be further than five feet from Rachel Berry, just like as always. But something about attacking the world just like Rachel attacked the world… it made her feel closer to the girl, if possible.

She didn't know if it made sense; she didn't need it to make sense. It felt right for her. It felt like her only option. Otherwise, they would continue on this path they were on until they were drowning in each other and not in the good way in which they used to drown in each other.

They would drown, suffocate, and ruin any potential for their future.

She was saving their future.

Right?

"Hey Bee, what's all this?" Rachel beamed as she strolled up to their scheduled meeting point. Her eyes raked over the picnic blanket, the basket full of goodies and games, and then fell on Quinn. It looked an awful lot like their first date minus the truck and bad driving. "I thought we were studying."

"No. And I'm sorry you lugged your books all the way up here."

"I'm strong, don't you worry about that," Rachel grinned and dropped her bookbag off her shoulders. "I think I'm just a bit confused. What's going on?"

"I need to talk to you about some stuff."

Rachel's smile fell and her hands clasped together, just as they did for their first kiss. Well, before their first kiss, when Rachel looked anywhere but at her and touched anything she could grasp: the wall, her skirt, her other hand.

"You're scaring me, Quinn."

"Don't be scared," she smiled. "You hungry?"

"For words. Your words. Speak."

"Short, come on. Can we sit?" Quinn smirked, ran a hand over her blue summer dress and motioned to the blanket.

"You haven't called me Short Stack in a year."

"Do you miss it?"

"Yes, but you have me wondering why you're bringing it back," she mumbled, dropped to her knees on the blanket and settled nervously.

"Just relax."

"You know what you saying that makes me think of?" Rachel grinned.

"What's that?"

"The lake house," she winked as Quinn blushed and looked away. "And look, you still turn blood red thinking about it."

"It was our first," she looked around before lowering her voice, "strap on experience, of course I still turn red."

"Do you ever think about it?" Rachel whispered.

Quinn met her eyes. They burned with a fiery history, the usual want, and current hesitation. She looked away, yet again, before turning around and lying back next to Rachel. The brunette watched her with a grin before shifting her legs out from under her and lying back as well.

Quinn shifted right until warm skin met warm skin, her fingers searching Rachel's out and finding them.

She heard Rachel's breath turn ragged and watched her eyes flutter shut. Quinn's heart relaxed in the comfort. She lulled her head right until her eyes fell on that beautifully classic profile.

"You know I'm in love with you?"

"Yes," Rachel whispered to the heavens.

"You know I would do anything for you?"

"Yes."

"You know I would do anything for us?"

"Yes, Bee."

"I had to do something for me this time," she muttered and Rachel's eyes pulled open and her profile fell to the side, eyes locking on Quinn's.

"You what?"

"I did something," she gulped. Deep brown eyes searched her for any sort of warning as to what was about to fall out of her mouth. And as one tear defied Quinn's control and slid to the blanket, Rachel found it.

She rolled onto her side, eyes wide and heart in her throat.

"What did you do?"

"I accepted an offer to spend next semester abroad. Sorry, next _year_ abroad."

The only word Rachel heard was abroad and images of maps with cartoon planes flying over them, red dotted lines stuttering behind flooded her mind. Distance. Miles. Time zones.

"Tell me abroad means Brooklyn."

"No, love."

"Poughkeepsie?"

"Sweetheart."

"Buffalo?" she cried and Quinn rolled to her right, arms wrapping around Rachel's neck and pulling her close. Tears fell freely and soon Quinn realized they weren't just Rachel's.

"It's okay," she whispered.

"Where?"

She gulped, closed her eyes and remembered high school graduation:

_We will overcome anything life throws us. We will be a force to be reckoned with. We will be the people we dream of seeing when we look in the mirror every morning. We will live passionately because we can't live otherwise. We will have heart because they pound so freely. We will overcome because we don't how not to. We will be the class who doesn't know how not to live with enthusiasm. We will try, we will pound away, and we will overcome. Simply because we are those people- we are who we see in the mirror and we make ourselves proud._

"Madrid."

Rachel pulled back, tears swallowed up and mouth gaped wide. Her eyes said it all: you're leaving me. You're leaving me.

You're leaving me.

"Spain?"

"Yes," Quinn whispered.

"Why?"

"I need it."

"What does that even mean?"

"Come here," Quinn murmured with a smile, pulled the arm around Rachel's shoulder tight and brought the girl into her. Rachel buried her face in Quinn's neck, let her arm drape around the blonde's waist, and held taut.

Quinn took a breath.

"Close your eyes," she whispered and Rachel did. "If I asked you right now, what were you made for? What would you say?"

"To sing. The stage. Broadway."

"And it's true, love. You were made for it."

"I don't understand your point."

"Ask me."

"What's your point?" Rachel reiterated.

"No, ask me the question," Quinn murmured and Rachel brought her head up to find Quinn's gaze.

"What were you made for?"

"You."

"But…"

"Exactly."

Rachel swallowed her thoughts, her words, and her air. She looked at Quinn in that moment like it was the first time she'd ever looked at her and actually _saw_ her. She saw her as Quinn saw herself: sidekick to Rachel Berry. Quinn's eyes twitched in a way that told Rachel everything.

She was lost in her own shoes.

She was lost ever since Rachel was found.

"But I need you to be with me," Rachel cried. "I can't, I can't, you have to be with me. When do you leave?"

"Two months."

She cried harder.

"Why would you do this? Why do you need to move to another continent to find your purpose? Why isn't Ford and Gunder good enough?" Rachel scolded, pulling herself to her knees and hands wildly gesticulating.

"In the _basement_, you mean?"

"Well, yes! You love your job!"

"It's a job, Rachel. It's not a purpose."

"Your purpose is reading books and _loving me_, Quinn! Why is that not enough? Mine is singing and loving you! And that's enough."

"It's not the same and you know it."

"I think you're running. You're running because we never dealt with last year and now it's ruining us and so you're running."

"Ruining us?"

"Yes! Don't pretend you don't see it! God, Quinn! What are you _doing_?"

"I'm carving my own path! Creating my own life. Making something that's mine!"

"Why?"

"_Why?"_

"Yes! _Why_? You never needed grandiose workings in your life because you were happy with peace. You were happy with the little things. You were happy with life being a book and a wife and a dog and a child! Now you're fucking… fucking moving to Madrid? Madrid? What's in Madrid? You're running! And I've never thought you more a coward than right now," Rachel scolded, shot to her feet and ripped her bookbag up from the ground.

"Where are you going?"

"Back to school. I can't look at you."

"Rachel."

"No! For once, you don't fucking win this one!" Rachel spat, turned on her heel and marched off. Quinn collapsed on the blanket, eyes to sky and head the furthest from her clouds as it'd ever been in her life.

* * *

><p>"What does that mean?" Janey questioned, hand rolling over Rachel's back to soothe her panic attack away. When the brunette pounded through the door looking like Liza Minnelli caught in a rain storm, she hopped off the bed, took her in her arms and let the girl cry her worries away.<p>

That was two hours ago… and she was still crying.

Janey wondered where she kept the well that fed these tears.

"It means she's moving to Europe in two months for an entire year."

"I mean what does it mean for you two. Your… relationship or whatever it is."

"I know, I don't know. I just know I don't want-"

Three knocks padded on the door and both heads whipped its direction. They locked eyes. It had to be Quinn, right? It had to be Quinn. Janey looked back to Rachel, eyes wide at her appearance, and Rachel shot to her feet in front of the mirror.

Oh, she looked _ghastly_!

"Jay!" she whispered. "Stall her!"

"I don't converse with Quinn. You know this," Janey muttered. "Last time we tried to talk, she almost punched me. She's vicious. She's an animal. She's like my Uncle John. We call him Lil John. You know why? Cause he's fucking crazy… just like Quinn."

Rachel gaped.

"It's true!" Janey whispered.

"She's not crazy."

"She said to me, 'I'm _crazy_ and I will shoot you in your sleep if you go near her,''' Janey recalled and Rachel whipped around mid-mascara cleaning.

"She said what? Why would she say that?" she shrieked.

"She did! She threatened to kill me."

"She did not! And why?"

"She did. Crazy is what that is."

"You're crazy!"

"Um, I can _hear_ you," Quinn stated from the other side of the door.

They froze.

And then Rachel snapped back to the mirror, rapidly cleaning her face of black streaks and Janey marched across the room stabbing an invisible knife through the air while mouthing _crazy-mother-fucker_ over and over again.

Rachel kicked at her endless legs and sent her toppling into bed.

"Knock it off!" she whispered and lunged for the door. She pulled it open to find Quinn red-eyed and puffy-eyed.

It wrenched her heart in a vice grip.

Oh, _Quinn._

She stepped forward and swallowed the blonde in a hug.

"I'm sorry I stormed off," she whimpered. Quinn melted into the embrace, arms wrapping around her waist and chin falling to her shoulder. It felt like home. It always felt like home.

And then her eyes leveled out to Janey on Rachel's bed.

The redhead smirked and stretched out, arms behind her head and ankles crossed. Quinn averted her eyes, calmed her exploding head and stepped back.

"Can you come with me?" she pleaded, leaned forward to kiss her- endlessly and effortlessly kiss her- and then Rachel nodded after pulling away.

"Ray, we need to study."

"I'll study later," she replied and let the door slam shut as Quinn dreamily pulled the enamored girl into the hall. "Where are we going?"

"Anywhere but here," Quinn muttered.

* * *

><p>Their feet dangled effortlessly over the pier. Rachel's hand locked sturdy in Quinn's and the blonde's head rested on her shoulder. They'd walked to the pier silently; Quinn needed air and Rachel needed Quinn.<p>

"I'll miss you," Rachel muttered.

"I don't ever stop missing you."

"We need to talk about us."

"Okay," Quinn choked out, fearing this moment for the past year. "I can do that. I can talk about us."

"I need to know what you want. I've needed to know for months," Rachel muttered, eyes on the rippling water below and feet swaying in the wind.

"I want _you_. Even through this, it's all about you. Do you understand that?"

"I do, as hard as it is."

"If I stayed, like you said, I don't think we'd make it."

"Guess love isn't all you need," Rachel whispered and pulled her eyes up to the beautiful cityscape before them. It made her feel small, effortlessly small, as if she wasn't Rachel Berry and the girl beside her wasn't Quinn Fabray, the girl with the biggest heart in the universe.

They were tiny here. They were nobody.

It felt refreshing.

"Will you be with me?" Rachel whispered. "I need you to be with me."

"I'm here."

"I mean with me, as my girlfriend. I can't not be with you. I don't know how to not be with you."

"Okay."

"Okay?"

"Yes." Quinn smiled and Rachel felt the weight of the world roll off her shoulders. Quinn watched her flutter into mush and lit up, she lit up with her _lit up because of Rachel Berry_ smile. The brunette wanted to bottle it so she could see it every day for the next year. She needed to see it every day for the next year.

And Quinn wanted to give it to her. She needed to give her something. She looked around and then reached for the edge of the dock, grabbed a blade of grass and turned back to Rachel.

"Come here. Give me your hand."

Rachel quirked an eyebrow and laid her right hand in Quinn's lap as the blonde fumbled with the blade of grass.

"Other hand."

She grinned knowingly and switched them, her left caressing the blonde's leg. Quinn winked, finished her fumbling and brought her newly circled blade of grass down to Rachel's hand. She lifted it gingerly and paused.

"Now, so called vows," she murmured and winked at Rachel. "I, Quinn Fabray-"

"Bee."

"What?"

"No… You, Bee…"

"Oh. Okay, love," she grinned and cleared her throat. "I, Bee, promise to stay faithful even though I'm hot. I promise to stay true even though I'm snarky. And I promise to come back to you even though I must fly to find my wings."

With that, she slipped it down her ring finger.

It slid perfectly down her skin and settled at her knuckle. Rachel beamed and brought her eyes up to Quinn. They leaned forward to seal it with a kiss before the brunette broke apart, leaned right, ripped a blade of grass from the edge and turned back to Quinn.

She tied it quickly in a circled knot and grabbed the blonde's hand.

With a steadying breath, she brought her gaze up to her endless anchors.

"I, Short Stack, promise to stay faithful simply because I'm annoying and no one else will want me. I promise to stay true because I don't know how to lie. And I promise to be here when you come back… because I can't exist without you."

Quinn giggled, swiped away a happy tear and watched Rachel slide the ring of grass down her finger. Their fingers clenched when done and their bright eyes met in enthusiasm.

"We can do this," Quinn smiled.

"We can do this," Rachel nodded.


	33. Chapter 32 HS Senior Year September

Note to my ever faithful readers: I lost my mother when I was 19. A lot of what Rachel feels comes directly from me and my experience.

* * *

><p>September - Senior Year of High School<p>

_I don't wanna be anywhere but here. What about there?_

_I'm sick, baby girl, but I'm so, I'm so proud of you._

The words repeated themselves again and again.

_I'm sick, baby girl, _

_ but I'm so, I'm so proud of you._

She needed to take her bags to her room.

She needed to um, schedule the move to New York next summer.

And dinner, what would they have for dinner?

"Quinn, can you help me take my stuff upstairs?" she muttered, unsure if the blonde was still there, anywhere, where were they?

"Rachel," she heard.

_I'm sick, baby girl._

She went for her bags and her eyes found her shoes; they were scuffed. She'd scuffed her shoes. When did she scuff her shoes?

And what would they have for dinner?

And shit, she had homework.

She also needed to call Mr. Schue and tell him the news; she was accepted to Juilliard's Summer Program. She, Rachel Berry.

_I'm sick, baby girl._

She gulped and wiped sweat from her eyes. It was sweat, right?

God, it was hot in there.

"Quinn, can you help me take my stuff upstairs?" She had homework. What did she have to do? Math? Literature?

Maybe she'd record a celebratory video. Or was she too old for that now? She was a college-accepted music student. She didn't belong on Youtube. She was above Youtube.

She was Rachel Berry.

And she had homework. Right, she had homework.

_I'm sick, baby girl._

And what would they have for dinner?

Maybe she could make pasta. Pasta was easy. Or they could grill out?

"Quinn, can you help me take my stuff upstairs?" she muttered and grabbed a bag. And then she grabbed the other bag.

She had homework.

_But I'm so, I'm so proud of you._

Math homework. And when did she scuff her shoes?

She sat the bag she'd been holding down; it was heavy in her arm. Why was she standing there holding bags and oh yes, she needed to call Mr. Schue.

They needed to have a party.

She could make pasta.

But she had homework.

She picked up her bag to head upstairs.

_I'm sick, baby girl._

But what would they have for dinner?

And when did she scuff her shoes?

* * *

><p>"Rachel?" she murmured and peeked into the pink bedroom. She swiped at her eyes for the umpteenth time and curled her neck further around the door.<p>

Her eyes pulled left to right over the motionless, dead room until they landed in the corner on Rachel's desk.

There she was: sitting and scribbling into paper.

Quinn swallowed and stepped inside.

"Rach?"

"Do you know much about trigonometry?" she muttered over her books.

"Um, no, love. You know I don't do math."

"Everyone does math."

"I don't do it _well_," she smirked and stepped a few feet closer. "Rach, baby? Can you, can you stop that for a second?"

"I have homework. And then we have to make dinner. I'm thinking pasta. It's easy, hearty, and good for leftovers."

"That sounds nice, but baby…" Quinn whispered and stepped forward again, hovering behind the twitchy-eyed, twitchy-penned girl. She reached forward and slowly brought her hand down on Rachel's to stop its rapid pace.

When skin met skin, Rachel whipped out of her chair and headed towards the door without a word.

"Where you going now?" Quinn pleaded.

"We have to make dinner. How do you feel about pasta?"

Brown hair fanned as she swiveled out the door.

* * *

><p>"How was your dinner?" Rachel asked, smiling over her empty plate.<p>

Quinn sat across the table, eyes aching and stomach full.

"It was delicious."

"I thought so, too!" she smiled.

"Rach," Quinn tried again.

But the girl hopped up from her seat, grabbed their empty plates and headed towards the sink. After flipping the hot water on, she doused the dishes in soap and took to the sponge.

Quinn leaned back in her chair to sneak a glance into the study.

Through the door, Hiram lay back on the right side out of the couch, tissue blotting his face, and Leroy lay back on the left side, full of smiles, snickers and eyes so in love it made Quinn hurt. She peeled away to provide them privacy and looked back to the kitchen.

Rachel poured over the dishes, damn near scrubbing their designs right off them. Steam billowed up and around her tiny head to the chandelier above.

"Baby," Quinn tried.

Rachel never faltered.

The blonde stood from her seat, pushed it in quietly and padded onto the tile kitchen floor. The light blues and dark blues shined brightly over her, the feeling in her heart aching quite contradictory to it.

She watched steam waft from the soapy sink full of water and hovered a few feet to the right of her love. She let her eyes pull over Rachel; after all, it's all she had. The brunette gave her that, so she took it.

Rachel's jaw clenched tight. Her top teeth sunk into her lip as she scraped hard at a clean plate. The muscles in her arms rippled like the coat of a cat in the hunt. She rocked her weight from one foot to the next, over and over again as if she were dancing to avoid peeing but slower. Toes tapped the others and then she'd switch, the other toes tapping the previous.

It happened again and again as she cleaned already sparkling plates one after the other.

"Rach."

But nothing.

She pulled her eyes back up to that face. Her big brown eyes were slanted and tight. Her right cheek glistened with a single streak of defiant liquid, starting at her eye and ending at the base of her collar bone. It trailed along her cheek, over her jaw and down her neck. One little streak told all her secrets.

Quinn let her own eyes and broken, bawling heart run from that streak down Rachel's trembling forearms and to her hands, her bright red, _burning_ hands.

"Rachel!" she gasped and stepped forward, gripping her wrists and pulling those hands out of the water. She smacked on the cold water and thrust the tiny fingers back underneath the faucet. Cool water ran over them and the color slowly returned.

Quinn slid her fingertips over the digits, along her knuckles and traced circles over her palms. Silent, calming moments passed.

"Better?" she whispered and gave them a gentle squeeze.

Half-lidded brown eyes pulled up and stopped at her neck.

And looking into them, or at them, Quinn realized Rachel was somewhere else. She could look into them for days and find nothing, an endless vast nothing. Rachel was somewhere else completely.

"I scuffed my shoes."

Quinn looked down; she'd done worse than scuff them.

"And I have homework to do."

Rachel pulled her hands free, turned around, and headed for the stairs.

* * *

><p>Her mouth opened multiple times over the next hour. No words came out. Each time she thought of what to say, she tried again. And each time, she failed. She'd opened her mouth forty eight times in sixty minutes.<p>

She'd closed it forty eight times, too.

Rachel sat at her desk, surely doing enough trigonometry homework to last her until Christmas. The room remained silent, sans for Quinn's breathing and Rachel's gasping over what Quinn figured were answers.

She'd been there four hours. They got home _four_ hours ago.

It was the longest four hours of her life.

Leroy and Hiram remained in the study.

And Rachel remained… wherever she was. She spoke to no one in particular. She reacted to nothing in particular. She repeated things. She stopped in the middle of sentences. She choked over words in the wrong tense as if she'd forgotten how to do grammar on the fly.

She was anything but Rachel Berry.

"Hey Rach?" she tried again, uselessly.

She wanted to walk over to the girl, grab her and bawl her eyes out. She wanted to let her outsides show how her insides felt. Her insides were ripping each other apart. Her insides were dying. Her insides had question after question after question and all she could think about said questions was that there were no answers. How sick was he? Was there a timeframe on him? Was there an answer? Was there a cure? A procedure?

But she had nothing, because Rachel was, because Rachel wasn't Rachel.

Leroy said give it until tomorrow and they would talk.

Quinn needed words now. She needed answers. She needed arms wrapped around her so she could hit her knees and cry. She needed to cry.

And all she could do was sit there on Rachel's bed and let her eyes secretly drain free while Rachel did whatever Rachel was doing. What was Rachel doing?

What was happening?

"_Short Stack_," she begged once more.

And Rachel whipped around.

Quinn's eyes bulged and her heart stopped as big, brown, coherent eyes locked on hers. Rachel dropped her pen and stood.

Anchors; _there_ were her beautiful hazel anchors. She walked to the bed and stared down at the shocked, scared, and confused blonde.

"Bee," she whimpered.

"I'm here."

"Can we sleep?"

"What?"

"I'm tired."

Quinn shuffled to the other side of the bed and pulled the covers down.

"Sure, love. You can sleep," she murmured and forced a smile. Rachel returned it meekly before pulling off her t-shirt. It fluttered to the floor monotonously. She reached down and peeled off her jeans.

And then she flicked off her bra.

It fluttered to the ground just the same.

"Goodnight," she said and crawled into bed, back to Quinn, before reaching out to click off her bedside light.

Nothing changed, as sunlight poured in through her window and Quinn stayed frozen, fixed to the girl and what just happened. She looked over to the clock: 6:14pm.

She gulped and ran her eyes over brown hair and the bare back.

It hit her like an oncoming train.

Images she'd previously forgotten flooded her head:

Rachel walking away.

Rachel on stage.

Vanessa and her scarf and her evil and her words.

And then Leroy's words.

And Hiram's tears.

And Rachel's burned hands.

And trigonometry.

Half-lidded eyes.

Pasta.

_Walk away before she walks away._

_I'm sick, baby girl. _

Her face scrunched up, her stomach tightened and her tears flowed.

She wept as it flooded over her: the worst weekend of her life. She needed arms around her. She needed her arms around Rachel. She needed Rachel back. She needed Leroy to be okay.

She needed her mom.

She swiped at her pouring eyes to no avail and crawled out of bed, shaking from the tips of her hair to the tips of her toes. She gasped for air into her palm to smother the noise and cried harder.

Her feet took her out of the room she loved more than her own. They took her down the stairs, past the study where Leroy held Hiram, and out the door. It slammed behind her and she gasped for fresh air as another sob wrecked through her.

Oh, god. She needed her mom.

Her feet took flight and pounded through the neighborhood, straight to her front door and into her own kitchen.

She slammed into Judy slaving over dinner and her legs collapsed.

_There_: arms.

Hugging arms.

And tears and soft whispers and clenching hands at her fragile heart.

"I know, baby, I know."

Her mom knew.

She knew.

And Quinn finally felt free.


	34. Chapter 33 Sophomore Year of College

Sophomore Year of College

_None of the sunsets look the same. They never look the same._

Walking away from Rachel in the airport could've felt horrendous. It could've felt like life ending. It could've felt like all of her air being pulled from her lungs. But as she looked back over her shoulder to the brunette smiling and holding a sign that read, "Attack that world. And then come back and attack me!" all she could do was smile. All she felt was love.

They made love the night before.

It felt like their first time. It felt like all the times after that. It felt like they were sixteen again and couldn't get enough of each other. It felt like fingers couldn't dig deep enough, tongues couldn't caress enough inches, and moans lasted hours upon hours.

Rachel locked Janey out of their room.

Rachel took her once and then again and then again. And before Quinn knew it, she was taking Rachel and again and then again. They laughed endlessly, grinned over mutual exhaustion and mused about their future.

What would Madrid be like?

What audition would Rachel land first?

Quinn felt free of that stupid bitch, Vanessa. She felt free of her plaguing thoughts. She just flat felt free. It elated her heart and powered her soul. She smiled into Rachel's neck, breathed her scent and rained kisses over her.

She was so in love. She was forever in love. She'd remain in love.

"I love you!" the brunette wailed as Quinn walked through security.

She whipped around and threw her arms open: come get her, world. Here she was, ready for it. She was ready to eat her words from graduation. She was ready to make something of herself. She was ready to see the lands of this place and carve out her path. She was ready to make Rachel as impressed with her as she was with Rachel.

Every day she looked at Rachel in awe.

And she wanted those brown eyes to look at her the same way. She wanted those eyes to look at her and say, "Hot damn. That's mine. Look at her go. Look at her be. Look at her fly."

And today, she flew.

* * *

><p>Madrid was quite possibly as magical as she thought it would be. She'd been there two months and already she felt localized. She had her spots.<p>

She dined with her new friend, Palo, every other night. He gushed about his latest paintings. He wore a different colored scarf daily. It always matched his dazzling shoes.

She sipped coffee with Maria of Argentina. Maria was a dancer, of the tango persuasion. She effused about Argentina endlessly. She'd wave her largely knuckled hands, break into spontaneous dance and shine like the world was her oyster. It was intoxicating and reminded her of Rachel.

And then there was lady Arna. Lady Arna might be Quinn's favorite. She sat at the foot of old Spanish colonial architecture and watched lady Arna write. She wrote on bridges, in between trash cans, on stoops, in boats, along alleys, and anywhere else Quinn came upon her.

She so desperately wanted to read what she was writing. She so desperately wanted to see those words. Were the words as interesting as she? She wore cloth drapes as an overcoat… or a dress… or a tunic. Quinn didn't know. She just wore drapes. Sometimes, she would pull them over her face during particular parts of her writing. She'd giggle, blush, and pull them over her face.

Quinn imagined she was working through an erotic, passionate scene that overtook her. Maybe she put herself in her stories. Maybe she felt the scenes. Maybe she needed a moment to compose herself after Pablo took Anna and the stars exploded.

Just maybe.

Everyday, Quinn came home with a new story. She plopped herself down at her laptop, pulled up Skype and called her bubbly brunette. She soon equated the sound of the bing bonging ringer with happiness. It gave her goose bumps.

And then the click would sound, the line would crackle, and Rachel's face would appear. And everything after that was pure joy.

"Bee!" Rachel always started.

"Short Stack!" Quinn countered.

Smiles abounded and life went on like that for a while. They skyped, they played, and they shared stories. Quinn explored the city, explored people, and explored life. She ventured out into thousand year old libraries. She wrote down things she found interesting. She wrote down things she'd want to see in stories.

She searched out writers to read new works.

And every day, Rachel would ask about them.

"What'd you read today?" she beamed, settling back in her desk chair fresh from the shower. Quinn grinned, raked her eyes over the towel clad girl and stretched out in bed, chin on her hands and stomach to the covers.

"Let's see…"

"I'm waiting," Rachel laughed, tossed her wet hair up and grabbed her make-up bag. It was their daily routine. Rachel got ready for class and Quinn unwound. Today, Rachel looked especially vibrant and giddy.

"You're so cute," Quinn mumbled.

She wanted to jump through the screen.

"I prefer beautiful," she murmured and Quinn sighed at the memory. That day still haunted her, but that moment held a special spot in her heart. It was the calm before the storm and Quinn cherished it.

"Today, I read the newspaper. Kind of. It's mostly in Spanish, so I try to read it, but you know…"

"Did you see Arna today? Was she still doing that thing with her pencil?"

"No, she stopped," Quinn laughed. "She's not smacking herself anymore. She was sitting by the river today."

"Is the river pretty?"

"Very."

"Describe it to me?" Rachel pleaded. "I wanna see what you're seeing."

Quinn grinned and rolled to her side, plopped her head up with her elbow and ran a finger over Rachel's form on the screen.

The brown eyes narrowed.

"You're touching me again, aren't you?" she smirked.

"Maybe."

"I want to hear about this river."

"_I_ want to touch you."

"Maybe… you should be touching yourself instead."

Quinn gasped dramatically.

"Rachel Berry, are you insinuating what I think you are?"

But Rachel only cocked an eyebrow, stood and descended away from the camera towards her armoire. Quinn bit her lip as her eyes assaulted those endless, shiny legs up that curvy, delicious ass and along the taut towel blanketing her torso.

She landed on flushed cheeks and a defying dimple.

"You're such a tease!" Quinn barked.

"No, baby, I'm not a tease," Rachel smirked and dropped her towel. Quinn's jaw hit the mattress and she lay back flat, yanking the computer closer and gaping at the sight.

"Turn around!"

"Turn around hooow," Rachel sing-songed and slowly spun away from the camera.

"No, no! Other way."

"Like this?" Rachel chirped and spun the opposite way into her armoire. The door blocked her view and Quinn huffed.

"Rach…" she pleaded.

A long, lean leg snuck out. It bent at the knee and dragged a heel up the edge of the door. Quinn rocked her hips down into the mattress and her head lulled down.

"Christ," she purred.

Rachel popped her head out.

"Everything okay?"

"Fucking perfect."

"Language, baby," Rachel smiled and grabbed her towel from the floor.

"Whoa, wait! What are you doing?"

"I have class in thirty."

"What?" Quinn shrieked. "You're going to do that and then leave me here like this?"

Rachel wrapped the towel around herself and sauntered back up to her laptop with the biggest shit-eating grin Quinn had ever seen.

"Leave you there like what exactly?"

"Hot and bothered!"

"Awe, baby. I wish I could help," Rachel smirked. "But I have an audition this afternoon and we have group before that to pick songs for the assignment in theater and… well, sorry?"

"Sorry?"

"Really sorry?"

"You're the epitome of a cock tease."

"Maybe if you had a cock…"

"I've had one a few times," Quinn smirked and watched the red flush up Rachel's arms all the way to her forehead. Yeah, _that_ did it.

"Damn you," she muttered.

"Now who's hot and bothered?" Quinn giggled.

"Hey, you remember that time in-"

"No, no! Don't do that. Don't do the 'do you remember that time' game because I will seriously explode if we start rehashing our sex life."

"That time after the first glee session junior year when-"

"La la la la," Quinn sang and snapped hands to her ears. But it was too late. All Rachel had to say was "first glee session" and Quinn knew: the first time Rachel took her at school.

"Baby, stop singing!"  
>"Then stop teasing," the blonde demanded and removed her hands.<p>

"I live to tease," Rachel grinned and then stood. "Hey I really need to get ready. Can we talk when you wake up tomorrow?"

"If you let me watch you get dressed."

"Since when is there an 'if' embedded into our relationship?"

"Since you dropped your towel. Now g'head, get ready," Quinn grinned. Rachel huffed playfully, dropped her towel, shimmied a bit for fun and went about her business.

Quinn sank teeth into her knuckle, refrained from humping the bed, and watched the whole thing with rapt attention. Because look at her, just look at her.

* * *

><p>Ten thirty, October 25th: it was a day and time to mark on the calendars. Rachel Berry landed her first starring role in an Off-Broadway play.<p>

Rachel Berry landed her first starring role in an Off-Broadway play!

Off-Broadway!

Play!

Starring!

Rachel! Berry!

Oh shit! She needed air. She tore out of the theater, whipped out her phone and dialed Quinn's international cell.

Sure, whatever, it was for emergencies and this call would cost Quinn about fifteen dollars, but Off-Broadway! Starring! Rachel! Berry!

It rang and it rang and it rang.

Ten thirty meant…. meant… god, time zone math was hard. 6:30 in Madrid! Crap. Six thirty in the morning. Quinn would be fast asleep.

Oh well!

She hung up and called again.

It rang and it rang and it rang.

Dammit, Quinn!

"You've reached Quinn Fabray Abroad, full name. Leave a message and send me ten dollars to pay for it. Ciao!"

Rachel rolled her eyes and waited for the beep; no one told Rachel Berry she couldn't leave a message.

"Quinn! Quinn Fabray Abroad! Guess what? You are listening to the voicemail of an Off-Broadway show headliner! My name is Rachel Berry. You might have my autograph on a birthday card somewhere. Frame it. Worship it. And shut up about the ten dollars, I'm going to be fucking famous! Excuse my French! Hey wait, do people speak French in Madrid? Or just Spanish? And why are you not answering? You should be experiencing this with me! You should be here. You should be kissing me. You should be taking me home and doing horribly, horribly, horrrrribly naughty things to me, inside me, all over me, mmm… Okay, ciao!"

She clapped the phone shut and grinned. That'll teach her.

God, her insides were on fire with excitement. She needed to celebrate. She needed to scream and dance and turn pirouettes in the rain!

She flipped her phone back open and dialed option two before pressing it to her ear. It rang and it rang and it rang until-

"What's up, my lady?" Janey boasted.

"Jay!"

"Ray!"

"I got the part!"

"Of course you did! Are you kidding?" she laughed.

"I can't even believe it."

"Why not? You're a star, babe. You were made for this!"

_And I was made for you._

Quinn's voice echoed in her mind and her stomach churned.

Her enthusiasm died as the voice in her ear continued to not be Quinn's. It wasn't right. She should be on the other end. She should be celebrating with Rachel. She should be telling her how made for this she actually was. She should be calling her babe.

Not Janey.

Her shoulders slumped, her eyes fell and her heart deflated.

* * *

><p>Months passed in the same manner for Rachel and Quinn. Quinn explored and Rachel prepared for the first run of her first Off-Broadway show. The more Quinn explored, the less she was home. The closer to the show they got, the less Rachel was home.<p>

Life took hold of them, as they planned.

Quinn relished in Arna and her intriguing stories. Dinners with Palo turned nightly. And Maria continued to dance and inspire. When Friday, February 18th, rolled around, Quinn found herself at a new crossroad.

Palo plopped a flyer into her hand.

Statom Books, it said. And that's all it said. "Statom Books" right in the middle of a plain white flyer as if Palo had clicked it out on a typewriter and brought it to her from the other room.

It intrigued her. It completely intrigued her. It was design to say the reader of the flyer needed to know nothing but that they were Statom and they had books. It shot tingles down her spine.

"What is this?"

"Es new company in town. He an editor. He works alone," Palo smiled.

"What? How do you know this?"

"An old friend."

"Is he hiring?"

"Does it matter?" Palo smirked. No, it didn't. Quinn grabbed her bag and fled for the door.

She found Statom Books in a side street off a main road. And by side street, she meant village of the birds. They covered the avenue. Chirping overwhelmed her senses and she nearly walked past the discreet green awning reading "Statom Books" over its curve. She stepped up to the dusty window, placed her hand to it and glanced inside.

Dust lined the inside just as it lined the outside.

Was anyone even there? She saw books. She saw empty shelves. She saw trash bags, unplugged lamps, and boxes galore.

"Can I help you?"

"Oh!" she spun around. "Hi! Yes, maybe. My name is Quinn, Quinn Fabray. I'm from New York."

"I'm sorry."

"What?"

"That you're from New York," he smiled.

"Oh. Why?" she questioned, even more intrigued. "Everyone gushes over New York."

"Do they now?"

"…most?"

He quirked an eyebrow and she found him interesting already. White washed hair fell short against the back of his neck and flopped attractively to a point on his forehead. He could've been James Dean fifty years later. She looked down, taking note of his worn sandals, his white button down and his khaki capri pants.

He was adorably handsome.

"New York, huh? Tell me; where would you live if you could live anywhere?" he mused and stepped up to his shop. With a few clicks of the lock and a frustrated kick to the foot plate, the door creaked open and the stench of old books wafted out.

Quinn let it assault her senses eyes closed and nose open.

God, it was beautiful, fresh like mildew and history.

"Dear?"

She snapped back to attention. "What?"

"I asked where you would live if you could live anywhere."

"Probably a small house in some rolling hills where I could read, raise a family, and love on my wife in private," she blushed.

"How interesting."

"Hopefully that doesn't pose a problem," she muttered.

"Pose a problem for what?"

"I would very much like to work for you."

"You don't know what I do, dear," he smiled.

"My friend Palo said you're an editor. You're looking for talent. I want to help you look."

"What makes you think you have an eye for talent?"

"I fell for talent. And I've read books since I knew words existed. I interned at a firm in NYC, Ford and Gunder. I read manuscripts everyday for nine hours for eleven months."

"Why did you quit?"

"I needed more."

"And this brought you to Madrid?"

"Yes, sir," she smiled.

"Have you found this 'more' yet?" he asked, prying and curious eyes burrowing into her. She let him, just to show him she could.

And then she met his gaze with her own, just to say she had found it, just now, just here, just in front of him.

"I think so," she smiled. He grinned at her assumptions and nodded.

"Okay, I'll tell you what; you have a week to bring me talent I can't refuse. I'm talking words that won't let me go, a writer who intrigues me without uttering a sound. Writers who talk annoy me. I want a fresh, unique voice in words on the page. You find me that within a week and you're hired."

"I'll have it before the end of the day," she boasted, turned on her heel and headed out into the streets of Madrid.

Where, oh where, would lady Arna be today?


	35. Chapter 34 HS Senior Year September

September - Senior Year of High School

_Take a right. And then wait._

Dreams saved Rachel the night she found out. She slept for sixteen hours the night they arrived home from Juilliard. Sixteen hours spent dancing through sugar plums and singing with Julie Andrews. She lay in a field of daisies, watched clouds shaped like Quinn's eyes roll by, and listened to her own heart.

She listened for the sputtering she'd felt earlier in the day.

Her heart pattered like an old beat up Chevy. It pattered like their old lawnmower, never steady, never rhythmic, but there.

She waited for the regular beat to return. She waited for the beat Quinn bred to return. She waited for the strong pounding to flood her ears as Julie Andrews sang chocolate over her eyes.

She waited.

And she felt light.

Her arms stretched left and right, spread wide like a bird in the wind.

She could take flight and get lost. She could take flight on Julie's words.

And then she woke to the smell of pancakes and syrup.

She woke to the sound of her daddy's giggle, low and throaty and ever innocently childish. She felt the sputtering take flight to pounding as she rolled herself out of bed.

She padded across the hall, wiping her crusty eyes, and came to her parents' open door. They sat Indian style in the middle of their bed, plates of pancakes between them and smiles adorning their mouths.

"Guys?"

Their jubilant faces turned her way and smiles crashed over them.

"Honey, why are you wearing a onesy?" Hiram chuckled.

Rachel ran a hand through her unruly hair and looked down.

Sure enough, she had on her pink onesy with gold stars; it was a gift from Quinn for Valentine's Day. It was one of the best gifts she'd ever received. Sometime in her sixteen hours worth of sleep, she'd put it on. Something inside her loved the fact that she did. Because it pulled a small smile over her face and the gesture felt perfect, as if Julie Andrews was standing beside her, holding her hand, and whispering, "Smile, smile, smile."

"What are you guys doing?"

"Having breakfast in bed," Leroy smiled. "Wanna join us?"

The smile and the question and the act and the air in the room split her heart apart and then slammed it back together. They were perfect, her fathers.

"I would love to," she whimpered out and swiped a tear.

Hiram grasped his heart at the sight and forced a quivering smile.

"Come on, baby girl," he nodded. She pranced over to the bed and crawled in, sandwiching herself against the headboard, one father at either knee.

"You guys made enough pancakes to feed a small country."

"Maybe we plan on it," Leroy grinned.

Rachel met the gaze with a smile and when it was time to look away, like normal, she couldn't. She watched him to return to his food. She watched him shove pancakes in his mouth, drizzle syrup inside like he was four, and then grin madly at his husband. She watched him chuckle as if he wasn't sick at all.

"Daddy?"

"Yeah, baby?"

"I'm ready to talk," she whispered, her unsteady voice contradicting her statement.

Hiram gulped and sat his fork down, eyes meeting Leroy's and engaging in another of the many silent conversations they had over the years.

"And no secrets," she added. "I'm in this thing. I'm in one hundred percent. No sugar coating, no secrets, no giving it to me easy because I don't want to be in the dark. Rachel Berry is never in the dark. I'm in the know. I know things. So I need to know. I do. I need to know. I need to know what to expect so I can prepare for the expected."

"Baby girl, shh," Leroy smiled. "Remember when you were ten and you decided to run for Class President?"

"Of fifth grade, yes," she grinned.

"Remember when the politics got all out of hand?"

"That stupid bitch of a mother, JoAnne Peevy. I coulda-"

"Dad."

"Sorry."

"You remember, Rach?" Leroy continued with a smirk.

"Yeah."

"What'd we say back then?"

"As long as we stuck together, we'd have eyes at every corner."

"And?"

"And nothing could take us."

"Why?"

"Because an eye at every corner makes a triangle impenetrable," she stated. "It makes it strong, a force, and a safe hold."

"We stick together through this, too, okay? You're always in the know because you're our third corner, baby. You're it. We're it. Okay?" Leroy smiled and gave her hand a squeeze.

"Okay."

"I still wanna wallop that JoAnne a good one," Hiram huffed.

"She got pregnant-"

"For the fifth time," Rachel added.

"And fat," Leroy finished.

"No!" Hiram gasped. "Really! Tell me it's so."

"It's so," they muttered.

"That just makes me so, so happy. You don't even know!" he gloated and tossed more pancake into his mouth.

Leroy wiggled his eyebrows at his husband and grinned, their night from last night rolling over in his head. They'd sat in the study for hours upon hours; Hiram cried and he comforted. His doctors told him it would be that way: _You'll find most of your supporters need just as much support as they give to you. It's not just about you. It's about them, too. Don't be afraid to support; it'll be good for your soul, it'll be good for your outlook; it'll be good for your heart._

So he had. He let Hiram cry it out as he reminisced. He meandered through his memories of college and falling in love. He meandered through his memories of their wedding day. He remembered Hiram holding him as he cried because his parents failed to show. He remembered the day they found Shelby and adopted her daughter. He remembered the first time Rachel looked at him, those big brown eyes like saucers in her tiny face.

He knew she was something, just like Hiram. They were something.

And he'd support them to the end, whenever that was.

"Daddy?" the voice broke into his thoughts. His eyes focused and the two loves of his life pulled back into view.

"Yeah, baby?"

"How bad is it?" she muttered, afraid to look away from his eyes for fear she'd drown and fall and collapse and die. She wanted to crawl into his arms like a two year old and feel secure for the rest of her life. She could hold him, too.

She could hold him as tight as her arms would let her.

Like halls in a sinking ship, dampness coursed around his eyes and flooded free. She felt sick.

He swallowed his fear, closed his eyes for a courageous beat, and took a breath before reopening them and readying himself for the hardest moment of his life: telling his little girl he'd be going.

"It's bad," he quivered.

Rachel's façade shattered.

"How bad?" she choked out.

"Bucket list bad, baby," he nodded through tears. She held on to her cracking walls as tight as she could and her eyes fluttered shut as her head fell to her lap.

She saw Julie. And she saw her pink plastic microphone recorder on the floor in front of the television. She saw Barbra on the screen. And she heard Daddy in the distance: _Focus, baby. And then rip it out._

She could focus. She could focus on her father.

He supported her for seventeen years.

Now it was her turn.

She opened her eyes, held her shattered wall together and looked up.

"What's first?"

"On what, honey?" he asked.

"On your bucket list."

* * *

><p>Quinn stood outside the Berrymen's house for a good twenty minutes before her feet took to the front stoop. Her knuckles took the door.<p>

And her eyes took to the floor.

She already couldn't breathe and she wasn't even inside yet.

The door swung open and Hiram smiled weakly.

"Hey there," he sighed.

"Hi, H."

"Come on in," he smiled, stepped to the side and waved her on.

"Actually, can I talk to you?" she stuttered. He nodded and motioned her in. "Can I talk to you _outside_?"

"Oh, sure. But um, Leroy and Rachel are inside."

"That's why I want to talk to you outside."

"Oh. Okay, sure. Hang on, let me go put this down in the kitchen," he said, raising the pot in his hands into the air and marching off.

Quinn looked through the open front door, around the frame and down the foyer. Elated giggles flooded down the hall and over her ears.

Rachel and Leroy.

The giggling gripped her heart in a steel fist and failed to release it.

What had life become when giggling threatened to break your resolve?

She reached forward, grabbed the doorknob and pulled the door shut. Air rolled through her lungs the second it clicked shut. Her eyes fluttered closed and her shoulders sighed in relief.

"Breathe," she told herself and dipped around to take a seat on the top step. It was Monday afternoon and she should be in school. But Rachel wasn't at school and that had worried her more than missing school.

She brought her elbows to her knees and collapsed her face in her hands. She needed to get it together. She needed to get it together and fast. She needed to be there for Rachel more than anything. She needed to be there for Leroy and H. She just flat needed to be there. But she didn't know where _she_ was, she didn't _who_ she was. She felt more out of sorts than she'd ever felt, even more than when she realized she loved a _girl_.

It even made sense then.

But nothing made sense anymore.

She and Rachel had always made sense.

Their life made sense. People envied their life.

And then Vanessa went and shattered that.

And now Leroy.

She took a much needed breath of air and looked up, the shiny afternoon sparkling over the neighborhood. It was the picture of perfection, Pleasantville perfection. It's all she wanted in life. She wanted Rachel. She wanted a little house or a loft or an apartment. Any place with Rachel on the couch. She wanted a dog to come bounding into the living room, nibbling at their ankles and begging to be held for movie night. And she wanted a baby crying in the other room because he or she was up from an afternoon nap. She wanted Pleasantville perfection and she wanted it with Rachel.

_Walk away before she walks away._

Why would she ever walk away from Quinn?

_Talent associates with talent._

The more she thought about it, the more she saw. How many famous people married a nobody? How many people in Hollywood married their high school sweethearts? She wanted what Hiram and Leroy had. She wanted easy life perfection.

And now look at them; even _it_ would be ripped away.

Where was Fred when she needed him?

The door opened behind her. She whipped around expecting Hiram and found Rachel instead.

She stood there in sweats, a loose ponytail, and argyle socks.

Quinn almost broke at the sight.

"You're so cute," she choked out. Rachel smiled and Quinn watched it attempt hitting her eyes only to fail. It stretched wide and fizzled out.

"I prefer beautiful."

"Come here," Quinn called, reached a hand towards her and pulled the girl down to the step beside her.

"I thought you'd be in bed with me when I woke up," she muttered and snuggled into Quinn's side.

"I'm sorry."

"Why did you leave?"

"Um, Mom expected me for dinner."

"Oh."

"People missed you at school. Everyone keeps asking me what's wrong."

"Why do they think something is wrong?" Rachel muttered.

Quinn flinched. Because she kept excusing herself to cry in the bathrooms? Because she kept excusing herself when she couldn't speak because of her tears? Because she kept excusing herself to throw up in the hall trashcan?

"I think they sense something."

"Oh," Rachel mumbled. "Let them sense."

"You coming tomorrow?"

"No."

"Are you coming back soon?"

"I don't know."

"Did… did you guys talk?" Quinn mumbled, eyes finding safety on the cracks in the wood between her knees. She didn't want to know.

"Yeah, love," Rachel whispered and dropped her head to Quinn's shoulder. She wrapped her hands around her bicep and held tight. "They don't know how long."

"But?"

"But he won't make it," she whimpered over shaking lips.

Quinn looked left to Gran Beasley's, eye rushing with liquid and face flushing hot. She brought her hand to her face and Rachel's grip on her arm went right along with it.

"Bee, look at me."

Quinn shook her head, willing control and denying the words, tears flowing freely down her cheeks and shivering as if mid winter.

"Baby," Rachel tried again.

"I need to go."

"Please don't go," Rachel cried and clung tighter.

"Why?" Quinn cried, her control crumbling and sobs wrecking free.

"I want you to stay. I need you to stay."

"No. I mean _why_ your dad? Why Leroy? I know I give him trouble, but I love him. I love him so much. And you- why is this happening to _you_? You're perfect."

"I don't know, love. Come here," Rachel whimpered and pulled her into her arms. Quinn sobbed freely and Rachel did her best to offer support.

She'd offer support to anyone and everyone who needed it.

She could do that. She could.

The door opened back up and Hiram was taken aback.

"Rach?"

She popped her head up and Hiram jerked his head to Quinn's crumbling form, mouthing if she was alright. Rachel nodded.

"Why don't you go get some water?" he said and gave her a nod. She returned it, placed a lingering kiss on Quinn's cheek and then peeled herself off the blonde. Hiram squeezed her shoulder as she passed to go inside and then took her spot on the step.

After rapidly trying to gather herself, she swiped her eyes clean and shook her shivers out.

Silence fell over them as Hiram looked over the neighborhood.

And Quinn looked over Hiram.

His curly, balding head and blackened eyes screamed weathered.

How must he feel?

"H?"

"Yeah?"

"I'm _so_ sorry."

"I need to talk to you about something," he muttered lowly, sullen eyes dancing over the shrubs and grass and driveway. They flowed through the air as if on a bird, taking everything in a new light, seeing everything in a new way.

"Okay."

"I know you love my daughter."

"I do."

"Whatever you do, regardless of how you feel, you be there for her."

"I…"

"This is your job. We're to be there for them. Do you understand?" he asked, finally turning to lock his brown eyes on her. It was the second time a father's eyes instilled trust in her. And it was the second time she felt she would let him down.

"I understand."

"Rachel's strong. She's always put together. But she's not. Do you get what I'm telling you? She's not together. And this is only going to get harder. You're it for her. Okay?"

"Okay."

"They're all we have."

_They're all we have._

It was all it took; Quinn broke.

* * *

><p>"What about Wicked?" Rachel beamed. "Wicked's on the bucket list."<p>

"Key word there was 'your' as in mine. Mine bucket list!" Leroy barked.

"Mine bucket list is not proper grammar."

"I'm allowed to be grammatically incorrect, I'm dying."

Rachel swallowed. And Leroy kicked himself.

"Sorry."

Jokes were his thing. Jokes let him breathe. Jokes reminded him he had a little control. Laughing told him he was still alive. It was his thing. It's all he had.

She forced a shy smile and went back to the pad of paper in her lap. He looked over her, so adult and mature and strong. She was the image of perfection. She was the image of everything he wanted in a daughter.

"I'm proud of you," he murmured and she looked up.

"Promise?"

"Every day."

"I'm proud of you, too."

He smiled, eternally thankful to have a woman like her in his life.

The moment settled around them and their eyes fell back to their lists.

"What about flag football?" he laughed. "I always wanted to be good at sports. I could be good at flag football, right? You run around and chase flags. It'd be like Pride."

Rachel laughed heartily imagining her fathers running wild in search of rainbow flags strapped to hot boys. She could enlist the football team's help. That would be a good day. That would be a very good day.

"Added to the list. Good one," she smiled.

"What's added to the list?" Hiram hollered from the door, cracking it behind him and strutting into the living room. Rachel lay sprawled around their loveseat and Leroy lay diagonal over the couch, one leg spread up top and one laid over the coffee table. "Wow, it looks like Thanksgiving in here."

"Thanksgiving!" Leroy beamed and started scribbling. "Thanksgiving food every day!"

"Added," Rachel gushed. "Where's Quinn?"

"Had to make a call, she'll be in after. What was the thing added before Thanksgiving food every day forever?"

"Um…" Leroy blushed. Rachel smiled and bit her bottom lip.

"Speak, one of you."

"Flag football," Rachel mumbled. "Cause Daddy always wanted to be an athlete… apparently."

Hiram guffawed.

"No, _Daddy_ wants to look at underage boys in tight shorts and rippling abs," he mocked.

"Doesn't sound so horrible to me," Rachel smirked.

"Says the lesbian in the loveseat," he added.

"Hey now! My girlfriend wears tight shorts _and_ has rippling abs. So you know, I just appreciate good physiques."

"And I used to read Playgirl for the articles," Leroy chuckled. Rachel gasped and tossed a pillow at him. The laughter that followed sent stars shooting through Hiram's heart. He couldn't love these two people more. He couldn't.

"I love you two," he smiled.

"You love us because we're horndogs," Leroy laughed.

Rachel blushed like she'd never blushed before and buried her face in the couch. It was not happening. It was not happening.

"My god, what's going on in here?"

"Noah?" Rachel gasped and shot to her feet. His body finally followed his voice and he emerged around the corner. She burst into squeals and leapt into his arms. "Noah!"

"Hey, hey, easy. Don't break me," he chuckled, gave Leroy a wink and nodded to Hiram. He plopped Rachel back on her feet and grinned wide.

"So we're making lists!" he clapped, ready to help and bring happiness, any way he could.

"If you wanna take your shirt off and prance around you could be _on_ said list," Leroy smirked.

Rachel shot daggers into his chest.

"Or not," he muttered and looked away.

Hiram choked back a giggle and meandered his way into the kitchen. Rachel beamed and turned back to Puck.

"What are you doing here?" she asked, lacing an arm through his.

"Well, a little birdie said my humor would be of good use."

"A birdie?"

"A blonde birdie."

Rachel's eyes fell to the front door at the end of the hall and it hit her at once. She dropped Puck's arm, paced to the door, threw it open and found nothing.

"Quinn?" she called out.

But there was nothing.


	36. Chapter 35 Junior Year of College

Junior Year of College

_I feel like we've gone far enough. Turn back? No. Never._

When Columbia offered Quinn a second year abroad, she didn't think twice. And the fact that she didn't think twice told her it was the right decision. Or maybe it told her that her heart wasn't as attached to New York anymore.

Her heart attached itself to her antique, rustic desk in the corner of Statom Books. It attached itself to Statom and his floppy silver hair, big white teeth and kind dimples. It attached itself to newly published Lady Arna and her book, "Short Hearts and Long Streets". It took almost a year to get the woman organized enough to put a binding together. When Quinn stumbled upon her that day forever ago, she was pulling that cloth over her face and mumbling about the heavens and her madre.

Quinn stood grinning at her feet and outstretched a hand.

Worn brown eyes pulled up to hers and Quinn nodded her assurance. In a split second conversation, she begged to read what she had in her hands. The woman of thirty or so begrudgingly obliged.

As the notebook hit her hands, Quinn felt clothespins attach to her shoulders and rip her free into the air, stringing her all the way up to cloud 9 and its brothers. Her eyes fell over the clean journal, the messy writing, and the scribbled out words.

"Why don't you erase?" Quinn mumbled, scanning the pages.

"I don't have time," she responded, nonchalant as anything.

Quinn smiled, heart sure and mind racing.

She flipped page after page through scribbled words. She couldn't wait to sit and dig into them. She couldn't wait to call her mom and share her day. She couldn't wait to walk Arna into Statom Books and say, _"Here is your new voice."_

"I like the stars on your flag," Arna added.

Quinn looked down, taking a moment to observe the woman. Her eyes narrowed and questions raced. Where was she from? Why did she write? Why was life lived in the streets and how many journals like this did she have?

She peeled her eyes back to the notebook and landed on a page.

Arna looked down the street, eyes bathing a small boy in loafers chasing a bright blue ball. She grinned and attention fell to her lap to write him a story, but she found nothing. Her eyes reached back up the strange woman in front of her, holding her notebook, reading her words and learning her.

Those bright eyes bore over her paper:

_I see more than anyone sees. Like a peeping tom through the slits of a fence, I bear witness to acts no one should witness unknowingly. She's unflinchingly honest, brutally creative, and abhorrently deceitful. And yet I have to watch and read. I can't close an eye to her life, to her words. It was January 10__th__, 1942 the first time I witnessed. She sat down at her desk and began scribbling, her face above a mosaic of emotion._

Quinn stopped and looked over the notebook at the woman relaxing on the stoop covered in leaves.

"What is this about? This story about watching a woman in the forties."

"Love."

"What kind of love?"

"The kind that never returns," she whispered and looked back to the boy bouncing his bright ball, elation ripping over his mouth and eyes each time it ascended to the skies and returned.

Quinn turned, following her gaze, and landed on the boy.

"You have a good eye," she said. "Do you have more notebooks?"

"Hundreds."

"Can I read them as well? Are they like this? Fiction and visual?"

"You can read anything you want. And I only write what I see. If you want to call that fiction, then sure, it's fiction."

"Do you have interest in other people reading your words?" Quinn asked, hoping and pleading she said yes.

"Aren't words written to be read?" she muttered, eyes following the ball up and then down.

"Not everyone thinks so," she smiled. "I want to take you somewhere. Can you come with me? I have a man who needs to meet you. He may want to put your stories together if he likes them. Would you like that? And my name is Quinn, by the way. You can call me Quinn."

"I'm Arna."

"I know," she said with a smile.

That day in the market, they meandered back to Statom Books, Quinn quizzing the writer on her life, her loves, and her history of writing. She learned everything she could in a matter of fifteen minutes on their stroll through Madrid. And everything she learned rapt her heart with joy.

And now, nine months later and newly twenty, Quinn had her first piece of talent. She had a title, she had a shop, and she had a baby.

The soft sounds of Statom Books played soundtrack to her life.

And Arna's notebooks remained the only thing she read. She read them daily, hourly, and by the stack. Eight months ago, the woman walked Quinn into her modest apartment and stopped in the foyer, shoulders shrugging and hands waving out.

Notebooks covered every inch of space. They splayed over an old block of wood masked as a coffee table. They stacked on shelves. They lay strewn about on the couch, in the corners, on the kitchen table, above the kitchen cabinets.

Quinn found heaven.

She walked into the main room, eyes jumping from one stack to another and to another.

"These are all yours?"

Arna nodded.

"And I can read them all?"

She nodded again.

"Can I take a stack now?"

She nodded once more and Quinn grabbed five notebooks from the couch. It felt like Christmas, Thanksgiving, Easter and Halloween all rolled into one. What would be inside? What had this woman's eyes seen and created?

That night, she tore home, pulled up Skype and dialed Rachel.

The bing bonging still peppered her with goose bumps, even if they did strike fast and dissolve faster.

The line rarely picked up. If Rachel wasn't in class, she was at the theater. If she wasn't at the theater, she was sleeping.

Quinn clicked End and selected her mom instead.

The line bing bonged again and again until it picked up, crackling and loading a picture of her parents hustling to hover over the computer.

"Is it on, Russ? Is it?"

"Did you click it?"

"Should it say on?"

"But did you click it?"

"Guys," Quinn giggled.

"I musta clicked it. Quinnie? Can you see us?" Judy boasted, eyes peering over her glasses and face far too close to the screen.

"Mom, back up. Just sit down in the chair."

"Is it up? Can you see us?"

"Yes, Mom."

"So you click here or there?" her dad pointed.

"I think right there. You can hear us, baby?" Judy called again.

"Yes! Yes. Look, I'm right here," she groaned and waved.

Judy beamed and Russ smacked his hands together in triumph.

"How was your day?"

"I signed my first writer, Mom, to Statom Books. I officially have a job as a junior editor!" Quinn shrieked.

"No! What does that even mean?"

"It means I'm now in charge of making sure this woman's words get put together in a way where people will want to read them."

Their pride floated through the screen and Quinn breathed easy.

She had a thing. She was in charge of a thing.

She finally had her baby.

* * *

><p>Opening night arrived quickly for Rachel and the cast of "Nobody's Business", but what arrived even quicker was the present Quinn sent to her dressing room. She tore through door and froze, the single red rose stealing her air. Unconsciously placing a hand to her heart, she walked across the room and snatched the tag off the vanity.<p>

_Congratulations on your dreams coming true._

_I still am and will forever be your biggest fan._

_Bee_

It lay bittersweet across her fingertips. She hadn't seen her anchors in weeks. She hadn't seen luscious blonde hair on her screen in weeks. She hadn't heard the voice that soothed her insides in weeks.

But she saw her words. She got her emails. They emailed daily.

And each day, they got shorter.

Quinn threw herself into her job and Rachel threw herself into the play. They threw themselves into life and life took them away. It took them away from each other.

Rachel wondered if this part was part of Quinn's plan.

She wondered if this space, this vast, dipping span of space between them was part of her plan. Did she think about this before making the decision? Did she think about the fact that if you went out to carve a path and lose yourself, you'd find yourself somewhere _new_?

She'd find herself somewhere new and _without _Rachel.

_I, Bee, promise to stay faithful even though I'm hot. I promise to stay true even though I'm snarky. And I promise to come back to you even though I must fly to make you proud._

To make you proud.

Rachel was already proud of Quinn.

Did the blonde not know that?

The thoughts churned in Rachel's head daily. Her insides cried a bit more as each month passed without her love by her side. She was living her dream and without the girl who helped her create it. Her dream was always interwoven with Quinn. Her feelings for the blonde pushed her talent. It gave her something to sing. It gave her the power and emotion to be great.

And Quinn needed life without Rachel to find the same greatness.

What did that mean?

She sat the flower note card back on her vanity and stepped forward to smell the rose. She imagined smelling the roses to be more freeing and beautiful.

It was only a stench so sweet it made her cringe.

She now cringed at roses.

What was her life becoming?

She brought her eyes up to the mirror lit by enlarged, round bulbs along the arched glass. Her tired eyes fell on her features. When was the last time she lit up? When was the last time she felt butterflies?

When the audience applauded fifteen minutes ago?

No.

Standing on stage, looking out over her first legit crowd, she saw Quinn's face. She used to see the Quinn who sat in Noah Puckerman's living room, bathing Nun Rachel with her eyes and falling in love against her will. She used to see that adoring Quinn.

Now she saw blonde hair and blankness. She saw a figure so elusive, Rachel wondered if she'd ever reappear. She was written words through the airwaves now. She was a dinging email alert. She was the unanswered bing bong call through skype. She was uncatchable in thoughts and unreachable in her heart, a figment of love and imagination.

And now she was a single red rose and a note card when she should be arms around her, applause in her ear, congratulatory kisses to her neck. Rachel should be thanking her for being a driving force, for helping her succeed, for being there. She should be escorting Quinn to Statom Books and reading journals with her. She should be lying across her legs on their worn couch and laughing about their afternoon. She should be there.

But she wasn't there.

She was off gaining her own applause- without the need for Rachel.

Somehow, at some point, Quinn's dreams became exclusive.

And Rachel's drowned in their wallowing inclusivity.

* * *

><p>October rolled around and Rachel sat down to her laptop for the fifth time that week. Without hope, she clicked on Bee Abroad and the bing bongs flooded her ears.<p>

Please answer.

Please answer.

She needed Quinn to answer. Her heart wandered the gamut from being excited about their paths to being confused about their paths to dreading the inevitable non-crossing of their paths.

She needed a reconnect. She needed Quinn. She needed Quinn or she didn't know what would happen. Her heart longed for the blonde. She longed for physicality. She longed for a smile. She longed for the sound of her voice. It'd been two months since they webcammed. And now, the emails only came once a day. It was enough to be in a so-called relationship, but it wasn't enough for Rachel.

When the line clicked on and Quinn's sleepy face came into view, Rachel burst into tears. She leaned forward, gripped the screen and kissed that scrunched forehead.

"It's four in the morning, Rachel," the girl groaned and pulled the laptop closer.

"I know. I'm so sorry. I needed to catch you. We're about to head out the door for the show and I just… I needed to see you."

"Half asleep?"

"Yes. I never see you awake, figured I should try," she muttered, a bit annoyed she wasn't being received as she hoped. "Wake up and talk to me. How is the book coming along? Is it selling? Do people like her stories? I read the one you sent yesterday about the boy turning his best friend into a ball and losing him the street. God, it was so innocently perfect and magical. Can you imagine being turned into a ball and me bouncing you through the streets?"

"I can't handle rambling Rachel at four in the morning."

"Deal with it."

"_Baby_."

Rachel's eyes fell closed at the word. Half a second passed and tears seeped from them.

At the sight, Quinn finally focused her eyes.

"Rach?"

"Sorry."

"Are you okay?"

"I miss you. I miss you so much it's killing me," she cried and swiped at her eyes. "Will you come visit soon?"

"Probably not, love. We have so much work to do."

"How is school?"

"A lot of reading. A lot of essays and Spanish classes," Quinn murmured and curled into her pillow, sleepy eyes fluttering at the screen.

Rachel lost herself in the view. She loved the view. Her breath soaked into it, misting over the screen and begging for more.

"You're so beautiful, Bee."

"It's four in the morning, Rach."

"I don't give a shit!"

"Whoa, _whoa_. Easy."

"I need more than a webcam once every two months. I need more than that. I'm clingy and hyperactive and I need face time. I need actual things. The emails are nice, but I need sight and sound and feelings. I need that, Quinn. Or I won't last."

"What are you saying?"

"I'm saying we need to make an adjustment. Plan better. Set a schedule where we both know we'll be home. My heart used to pound at skype's ring and now it cries. Do you understand that?"

"It's a two-way street, Rachel."

"I'm not saying it's not! Don't get defensive. I'm not blaming you. I know I'm busy, too. But at least I'm trying, calling out what's wrong. And something is definitely wrong. I need more, Quinn. I'm telling you right now I need more."

"I hear you."

"Okay…"

"What do you want from me?" Quinn whispered.

"Excuse me?" Rachel chided. "I want to feel like I have a girlfriend!"

"No, baby. Stop. Relax. I mean what I can do? How can I meet you halfway? I'll meet you halfway."

"Sorry. Didn't mean to snap. I'm just, you know," she choked through settling sobs. "Emotional diva over here," she giggled. "What time of day are you home every day?"

"It's different every day. Arna and I do street walks. Palo and I do dinner out sometimes. And I've started taking dance classes in the morning with Maria."

"You're taking dance classes?"

"Tango."

"Oh. Wow. That's neat," she murmured. "Good for you."

"It's fun."

"I'm sure. What about a lunch break? Do you take lunch breaks?"

"I'm at school for lunch and then head over to Statom for the afternoons."

"Okay," Rachel whispered, smiling against her will.

"I don't think a schedule will work, love. Let's just email more daily and be better at asking when the other is free. Then we can hook up that way."

"Okay."

But so not okay.

"I'm gonna go back to sleep, okay? My eyes are on fire," Quinn muttered with a shy smile.

Rachel nodded and reached out to run a finger over that face, that beautiful face. She smiled, remembering what the skin felt like under her touch.

Quinn knew. She knew. She saw the eyes lower and she knew.

"I love you, Short Stack."

"I love you, too."

"Tomorrow? I'll try to be home," Quinn smiled.

"Me, too," Rachel frowned.

But it wasn't enough. It wasn't near enough. Rachel clicked End on Quinn and her fingers took her to the internet. Quinn could fight for her own path, her own dreams, but she'd be damned if she thought Rachel wasn't going to fight for Quinn. And before she knew, she booked a plane ticket.


	37. Chapter 36 HS Senior YR Early October

Early October - Senior Year of High School

_The car won't start._

Rowing calmed him. Something about the mundane back and forth push of the oars stole his normally ADD thoughts and swallowed them whole. He watched the water fall over the wood and the sun fall over the water.

He watched Rachel's hair dance in the wind as they pushed through the lake, his muscles burning with each stroke. Each strand of hair flipped and flapped as if her insides struck sparkplugs together over and over again, igniting each new strand in a new piece of wind.

As each day passed, he watched her grow weary. He watched her smile not reach her eyes. He watched her laughter trip out of her instead of dive, somersault and splash in the air. He watched her retreat inside to stay strong outside.

He watched her lose herself secretly.

And all he could do was watch and provide smiles and provide support and provide excuses for the blonde who was never there.

He'd soon run out, by lack of the new and by choice. He'd stop.

He would.

"Noah! Faster! Faster!" she shrieked in joy. "They're beating us! And we are strong teenagers!"

"You're just sitting there," he huffed, picking up his pace and ignoring the burn in his biceps, the fire in his forearms, and the ache in his legs.

"A lady sits. A lady is looked at," she grinned and the grin turned into a gasp as her fathers' boat shot past them in one beat, two beats, three beats. "A lady does not rooow! Row! Row!"

"Eat our dust, chilrens!" Leroy crowed as their boat pulled leg after leg ahead.

"Noah, I do _not_ lose!"

"You don't row either! There are two of them!" he growled.

"One of whom is a tiny little Jewish bump on a log!"

"And the other resembles a freaking offensive lineman!" he spat.

"With cancer," she deadpanned. "Now row! Row! Row!"

"Stop," he gasped, "yelling!"

"A good team never falls apart," Hiram bragged from his boat, gliding a full length ahead and swarming over the designated finish line. Their hands shot in the air, screams erupted and Leroy pumped two fists.

Rachel sagged, distraught and defeated, but smiling gloriously at her proud and elated father. Puck threaded them over the finish line a few seconds later and gasped as he slammed the oars to a stop, hands on his knees and face in his lap.

Rachel grinned at the lump of adorably sweet meat.

"A for effort, Noah. A for effort."

"Me, not you. You fail."

"No, I don't," she smiled, eyes raking back over Leroy. "Because look at him." Puck picked his head up and looked left to the Berry's boat. Hiram danced badly in his seat and Leroy launched into disco hip slashes. Hip, sky. Hip, sky. Hip, sky.

Puck smiled, bittersweet fondness rolling over him. He'd spent the past two weeks with the Berry guys and he enjoyed every moment of it, only to realize he was bonding with a man who would soon be gone. He was attaching himself to a man he respected, but would disappear.

He was gaining a father figure, only to lose him again.

He looked away, eyes to his oars and slowed his breathing.

"You okay?" she whispered.

"Yeah, just tired."

"Thank you for coming. It was fun, right?" she smiled.

It was one more thing off Daddy's bucket list: Race a rowboat.

He'd apparently seen the movie Skulls one summer and fell in love with both Joshua Jackson _and_ the sport of rowing. It was number 31 on his list. And the day God provided for it would never go unappreciated. Sun caressed them, shining in their hair, glistening off their sweat, and illuminating their smiles. It was the most perfect fall day Rachel had ever seen.

And it was one more thing to be thankful for in a situation where she needed it. She needed to find appreciation in everything. She needed to see the small things. She needed it.

Watching her fathers celebrate twenty feet across the lake in the endless sunshine gave her that. So she took it. She took it and found herself clapping.

And then Leroy stood to take a bow.

It was perfect until the boat jerked and an offensive lineman screamed like a queen, fell to the right and splashed into the water.

But then again, _that_ was perfect, too.

* * *

><p>In all honesty, when her door cracked open she expected Rachel. She expected a feisty, angry brunette to tear into her room and blast her a new one. But when blonde hair and blue eyes peaked around the door, she sighed in relief. Her head fell back to her pillow and her heart picked up pace again.<p>

"Britt," she breathed.

"Uncle Ned," the cheerleader grinned.

"I thought we let that die in 6th grade."

"7th, but I'm bringing it back. You need some joy. You look like hell," she muttered, plopped herself down beside Quinn and wrenched her arm behind her best friend's neck. "Come here."

Quinn curled into her side, gripped at her strong stomach and held tight.

"You okay?" Brittany muttered.

"No."

"So let's talk."

"I don't know what to say," Quinn whimpered, eyes fluttering shut against the girl's neck.

"You always have things to say. It's why you work so well with Chatty Jew Kathy," she smirked and Quinn chuckled, the first time in a few weeks.

"I can't make sense of my head."

"Start with one thing."

"I'm avoiding my girlfriend."

Brittany sullenly nodded, that information not new.

"Don't you think now is the time to be there?"

"Every time I try, I cry and I can't breathe and I see Hiram looking like his world is crashing and I just think… that could be me. That could be me."

"Honey, Rachel isn't dying."

"She could. And then I also think about Juilliard."

"That chick ran her mouth and shouldn't have, Q. You know that. She was just riling you up because you called her a bitch."

"No, she was telling the truth. I'm sideline in Rachel's plans. One day, I'll turn from sideline to peripheral and then peripheral to non-existent. I'll be the line that turns to a spot that turns to a speckle that dissolves into the horizon. And she'll be at the height of her dreams. And I'll be Hiram: broken beyond repair because she's all I have."

"You're being dramatic."

"I'm being _realistic_. There is no place for me in Rachel's future."

"There's a place if she makes you a place. And I know she wants to. She has a place for you. You're practically her heart, Q. You're everything to her."

"No, I'm half of her everything. Her everything is music. You should've seen her, there in New York in her element. You should've seen her audition on camera in her room that day. You should've seen her holding the letter, waiting to be accepted. It's… it's all she's ever worked for. I was a surprise. I can't compete."

"You don't need to compete. One thing drives the other. You're like Fred Flinstone," Brittany boasted and sat up. "You're like the pounding feet beneath the car, the car being Rachel's dream."

"And what about my dream?"  
>"Oh," she muttered, face falling. "Well, what's your dream?"<p>

"Exactly."

"I don't get it."

"I don't either."

"Then why are you holing up in your room and pouting?" Brittany wondered. "I mean, if you don't- if you can't- if you… You're making my head hurt."

"Welcome to the club," Quinn sighed and let the pillows swallow her.

"How's Hiram?"

"I don't know."

"Quinn."

"I know."

"How's Rachel?"

"I think okay. She and Leroy are working through a bucket list. Today they went rowing," she smiled. "He apparently had a thing for Joshua Jackson."

"Guh, don't we all?" Brittany moaned and lay back down. "How do you know they went rowing? And why weren't you invited?"

"I was."

"Oh."

"They're having a fish fry tonight at the house," Quinn muttered. "Leroy's always wanted to have a fish fry. His parents are from New Orleans."

"Are they coming?"

"They don't speak to him."

"Why not? Are they mute?" Brittany wondered and Quinn chuckled.

"No, babe. Because he's gay."

"Well that's no reason to go mute."

"No, no it's definitely not."

"Are you going?"

"I am."

"You want company? I could come and be there for you," Brittany offered, rolled to her side and let her worried eyes fall on her best friend's. "I could come be your rock. I make a good rock. Watch," she called and froze, face dead, limbs stock-still and eyes empty. Quinn erupted in giggles and leaned forward to rest her head on that rock forearm.

"I love you," she murmured, because she did.

"Rock loves Quinn, too," she barked, still frozen.

* * *

><p>The fish fry arrived with a bang, literally. The fryer exploded. Grease rained down over the Berrymen's back deck and at first, the company stood shocked, horrified… and worried about what they would now eat. It was mainly Puck on that last one.<p>

And then, as grease painted the deck like the stars painted the sky, the scared, agape mouths upturned into flabbergasted smiles and hearty laughs and momentous feelings. Eyes locked all around the deck and the weight of the sight fell over them like a beautiful down comforter.

It blanketed them in sweetness, giving them yet another moment to remember, another moment to smile about, another moment to appreciate.

Leroy let his heart feel it. He smiled at his grinning daughter.

He nodded love at his adoring husband.

And he giggled lightly with the rest of their friends.

And then, he gave them a new plan:

"So pizza?" he wailed and applause erupted. "Pizza it is then."

Hiram gave his arm a squeeze and headed for the phone book. He passed an abnormally quiet Quinn stretched back in a deck chair, floral pattern scrunched beneath her sagging form. He looked at her gaze, her solemn gaze, and followed it. He turned slowly, following it all the way across the deck where Rachel stood by Leroy, laughing heartily and wiping exploded fish off the wood deck.

His daughter still presented such a put together façade. But he heard her in her room at night, or really, he lacked hearing her in her room at night. He used to fight her over the music volume. He fought her over the late night singing, the singing of the same verse, the same lyric, the same note, just so she could perfect yet another song.

But now, he heard silence.

It disturbed him.

He brought his gaze back to the blonde.

"Quinn?"

Cloudy hazel eyes climbed to his.

"Sir?"

"Why don't you go help Rachel clean?"

"She's got it."

"Quinn."

"What?"

"You okay?" he whispered, laying a hand on her shoulder. Her eyes left his and landed on her girlfriend. They hung tight for a few seconds, struggling it seemed, and then fell away.

"I'm fine, H."

He watched the lie fall out of her mouth as if air. He watched her face defy her control. It scrunched for a half beat and then her neck convulsed in a gulp and her features steadied.

Yet another time bomb joined the group.

He squeezed her shoulder and walked away, nothing good to say.

Later, as they lounged around the living room, stomachs full of pizza and hearts happy, Rachel stood to address the crowd.

Silence fell over them, all ten of them. The Berrymen's friends quieted, eyes falling to the adorable daughter they'd raised so beautifully. And Rachel's friends smirked at what would inevitably be quite a diatribe.

The brunette smoothed out her skirt, gathered her posture and then brought her attention to her friends and family.

"I just want to say thank you for coming to our little non-fish fry on such short notice. You may all be receiving requests like this over the next," she stopped, stumbling over her words and face falling white as she realized she was about to put a timeline on him. And then she realized he _would_ have a timeline. "God, I wasn't supposed to go there with this- I- sorry, Daddy," she whispered, wiping a stray tear.

"Sweetheart, it's okay. Keep talking."

Hiram watched his daughter struggle.

And he watched Quinn stay glued to her seat on the couch.

Everything in her wanted to stand up, step behind Rachel and wrap her arms around the girl. Everything in her wanted to be supportive. But everything in her thought about her heart shattering to pieces. She was already invested and shattering to pieces. How would it feel to be even more invested and shattering to pieces? Would she come back from that?

She wouldn't.

"As we work through Daddy's ridiculous bucket list," she rolled her eyes, "I hope all of you can join us for whatever activities you find yourself invited to. It would mean the world to me and it would mean everything to my dads. So on behalf of them, I just wanted to say thank you for making tonight a great night. Between the games, the explosion, the laughs, and the great delivery pizza, I would call it a success."

"Check 22 off the list!" Leroy boasted and Rachel beamed.

"And not to make this heavier than it needs to be, but um, I always kind of figured life to be about the people who care about you. And I grew up thinking only two people cared about me: my dads," she whimpered. "Most of the time I was right," she added with an eye roll. "Let's face it, I was a high strung kid and kind of-"

"Still are?" Puck laughed.

"Shut it, Noah," she snapped and the room giggled lightly. Quinn rolled her attention to the boy, feeling outside the circle for the first time since she stepped up to Rachel and kissed her. She was even on the "friend" side of the couch, flanked by… who were these people? Sergy and Dana? She didn't know.

Puck lay stretched across her loveseat.

_Her _loveseat.

She had no right to be bitter. It was her fault. It was all her fault.

But something in her couldn't step off the track she was on. Something in her couldn't derail the train. She couldn't and it-

"And now, standing in this room full of people I love," Rachel continued, eyes falling on Quinn, "I realize our triangle of support is much bigger than I thought. We, the Berry family, are lucky to have friends like you all. And I wanted to thank you for coming, for being like you have, and for continuously showing up. I know my dads stand behind that notion as well."

"Hear, hear," Hiram called.

And Quinn's eyes fell to her lap. Was it directed at her? Was it a request? Was it a wake-up call? Was it a plea?

"So thank you. I love you all," Rachel smiled and wiped her last tear. Smiles, hugs, and winks circled around the room. And Quinn watched Puck hit his feet to envelope Rachel in his arms. She smiled gleefully as her feet left the floor.

He slid his lips to her ear and whispered something. Her brown eyes fell with emotion and he ran a comforting hand over her cheek as she nodded and forced a smile. He was breaking down her shell.

He was getting inside.

He was where Quinn should be.

But _he_ had nothing to lose.

"Can I talk to you?" Hiram interjected, hot eyes on her and leaving no room to deny his request. She gulped away the shock and stood, following his back down the hall.

Rachel tore her eyes to the descending figures, her Quinn-Radar ever powerful. She constantly knew of her, longed for her, and prayed something changed. She missed her body in the bed next to her. She missed her lips against her own. She missed that heart pouring into hers like it was the girl's overflow cup, one in the same, ever sharing.

She flat missed her.

She flat needed her.

Hiram turned the corner and stopped, satisfied they were out of earshot. The blonde padded to a stop in front of him, eyes on the family photos lining the wall behind him. He turned to look just the same and images of Rachel as a baby, Rachel as a toddler, Rachel with her first pink plastic microphone, and Rachel in the arms of Leroy came into view.

"She's adorable, isn't she, my baby?" Hiram muttered.

"Yes."

He turned back to her, the softness in his voice gone and the fire in his eyes lit and shimmering like a bonfire. They screamed disappointment. They screamed worry. They screamed heart ache and weary and exhaustion.

They just screamed.

And it broke her heart, how he must feel. To watch your only daughter lose her father and to lose your soul mate, he must feel… he must feel…

She had no words for how it could feel.

"Quinn."

"Sir?"

"What are you doing?" he chided, narrowed eyes and disdainful voice slicing her insides open.

"I don't know anymore."

"Figure it out," he barked, pivoted around her and disappeared into the crowd. She had to figure it out. She had to. But all she wanted to do was not figure it out, not think about it, and not wait for and watch life break apart.

So she turned… and she left.

* * *

><p>Something in her told this was backwards. Something told her that Quinn should be knocking on her door instead of her knocking on Quinn's. But there she was anyway, standing on the Fabray front porch and knocking on a rainy Tuesday afternoon.<p>

Three knocks brought Judy to the door.

"Hey, darling," she smiled. "How are you doing? How're your dads?"

"Dad's having a rough emotional day and Daddy's taking it easy. His chest started really aching yesterday afternoon. So he's trying to relax. We've been building paper mache castles in bed all day," she said with a smile. "Mine kind of crumpled. But you know…"

"Sounds lovely, dear. I'm really proud of you, you know?"

Rachel brought her eyes up to her only mother figure and beamed.

"You are?"

"You're being quite brave."

"I'm trying."

"You're succeeding. You're succeeding very, very well and with such class and composure. It's the behavior I would expect from my own daughters should they be in your shoes. I'm greatly impressed and lucky to call you one of my own."

Rachel teared at the words and nodded, chin scrunching up and eyes welling.

"Now, now, no tears. That was a compliment."

Rachel shook it out and stood strong. She stood strong like she stood strong in that same spot the day of her first date with Quinn, Fred's arm in hers and not a care in the world but trying to be like Emerson. What would Emerson say now? And why was Quinn not right there telling her?

_Quinn._

God, she missed her.

"Is Bee home?"

"No, honey," she muttered, sad to break the news to such a hopeful and innocent and pleading face. She knew her daughter was off, but the walls around her were impossibly impenetrable.

"Do you know where she is?"

"I don't, actually. She mentioned Brittany's. She mentioned the movies. She mentioned the track. And she mentioned the mall," Judy stated and then cocked her head to the side. "You know… I just realized what she did."

"Yeah…" Rachel grinned.

"Mention enough and your parents have no idea where you are. Clever, that one," she giggled. "You wanna leave her a message?"

"No, I sent plenty to her phone. I thought she may be sleeping, so I came over. I, I guess she's not."

Judy's heart ached at the girl's forlorn face. What was her daughter doing? Who had her daughter become? And more importantly, would she pull out of this and was she okay?

"Wanna leave a note? I know she loves your notes."

Rachel swiped at her eye and smiled largely.

"No, no that's okay. Just um, just tell her I miss her," she shrugged. "I just really, I, um," she choked out, her steady frontage crumbling against her will. Tears flowed free and Judy whipped into her, wrapped her in her arms and rocked her worries to pieces.

Two miles away, in their park and on their swing, Quinn cried just the same, her own worries failing to rock away, even though she tried over and over and over again.


	38. Chapter 37 Senior Year of College

Senior Year of College

_It's the jet black sky just before the rain.__ But my window is broken._

Six months passed like molasses as Rachel sat on her planet ticket to visit her girlfriend, her abroad and hardly around girlfriend. Their plan to schedule skype dates, talk on the phone more often, and pick up their emailing lasted about three weeks.

After which, it deteriorated. "Nobody's Business" took off in the theatre world. Rachel went from young ingénue to sought-after leading lady. Fighting for roles turned into picking and choosing her roles. Her dream was at her doorstep, knocking loudly and waiting for her to open the door.

And through all of that, all she could think was Madrid and two more months, one more month, two more weeks, one more week, two more days, and now one more day. Finally, tomorrow she hopped a plane to Spain to fight for her love. They hadn't spoken in three weeks. She hadn't spoken to her girlfriend in three weeks.

What kind of normalcy was that?

What kind of travesty was that?

She wondered what it would be like. She wondered how her Bee was. She wondered if Quinn was even _still_ her Bee.

She just wondered, because she had nothing else.

She was officially out of the loop and Rachel Berry was never out of the loop. And yet here she was, so far out of the loop she didn't know how Quinn spent her last three weeks.

Travesty, heartbreaking travesty.

The last time they spoke, Quinn was delving into her senior year portfolio to apply for graduation. And Rachel was balancing Broadway offers with the senior showcase of which she starred.

It was all very easy, starring in things and leading things and singing.

Being away from Quinn and wondering, not so easy.

And she was fed up.

So tomorrow, she would fly to Madrid and surprise the so-called love of her life. Tomorrow, she would go see about a girl. And hopefully, if all went well, she'd fly back with resolve, comfort, and optimism.

Because frankly, she had none otherwise.

* * *

><p>Quinn's desk in Statom Books overflowed with a multitude of things: Arna's next draft in her series, her senior thesis, books from the library, manuscripts from wannabe talent, and letters from her mother. It was her favorite mountain of words in which she lost herself daily. And today was no different.<p>

She combed through what had to have been the two hundredth notebook of Arna's, searching for other short stories to fill her second volume.

She imagined a theme of love unseen this round. Arna's first volume pounded in the notion of love lost. And the blonde envisioned the third to be love found, like a trifecta of emotion when thrown together, seen full and read with depth. But when pulled back and looked at alone, they read as gut-wrenching initially, and secondly hopeful, and lastly, romantic.

Arna loved it, as did she, and as did Statom.

"You do good work," he'd said last week after she spent a sixteen hour Saturday pouring through story after story.

She searched for the love unseen stories. She searched endlessly.

Because only when she finished love unseen did she get to love found.

She had to get to love found. It was pulsing through her veins, pounding in her chest and racing around her mind. She needed to get to the third volume. She needed it to be done. She needed her baby to stand tall, breathe and make a statement. She needed the story to end as she prayed all love stories ended.

And hopefully it would.

And hopefully people loved it.

The first volume sold wildly throughout Madrid, but only Madrid.

Statom envisioned Europe for volume two and international for volume three. He had hopes, hopes that Quinn had to fulfill. It was a constant weight on her shoulders as she searched for stories that wrecked her in one way or another. She needed stories that lightened her soul, emblazoned a smile across her face, or wrenched tears from her eyes.

She accepted nothing less and she lost herself in it.

And Arna, well she wrote. She upgraded her apartment with the money she made, but she still street-walked. She still wrote. She still buried her face in slightly nicer cloth and mumbled about her mother and spoke few words and just lived. She was perfect to Quinn.

And she was astounding to Statom, just as Quinn was.

"Thanks," she'd said to him that afternoon. "That means a lot. I try hard. I'm trying _really_ hard."

"It's noticed," he'd stated, quirked up his mouth in a slight smile, and headed out for the evening.

It's the way they went about things. She buried herself in the office and he threw little, impactful statements at her. He was the perfect boss, she realized. The moment they met, he'd given her wings. If she could fly, she could write her path. He gave her the power. If she failed, it was no one's fault but her own.

And there she was, writing her path and giving Arna a voice.

It was everything she never dreamed.

And she most certainly was not failing. She smiled thinking over her project while sitting at her usual desk in the usual low light at the usual late hour as Statom stood to leave.

"It's late, Quinn."

"I know, but-"

"Take a night off. Go home. Go to dinner. Meet some friends. You have friends, right? What about that girlfriend? She still around?"

"I have friends, yes," she guffawed. "And yes the girlfriend, so hush."

"Go talk to them, _do_ them, whatever. But just go do," he smiled and placed his weathered fedora atop his head. His glassy blue eyes sparkled below and after plopping his tooth pick between his lips, he turned on his heel and left. The door fluttered shut with a ringing jingle and she sighed with a content smile, her eyes peeling back to journal _five hundred thousand_.

"Love unseen, love unseen," she murmured and flipped another page.

The door jingled again and she huffed.

"We're not a bookstore," she muttered into the book.

"I'm not shopping for books."

Quinn whipped around, that voice familiar any day of the week in any time zone on any continent.

"Rachel," she gasped. Sight of the brunette crushed her in her seat.

"Bee."

Quinn took to her feet, paced across the room and jerked the girl into her arms. The embrace tightened by the second, familiarity flooding over their unfamiliar bodies. Rachel felt thinner in her arms.

Quinn felt meatier in Rachel's.

But they felt.

God, they felt.

Rachel opened her mouth to suck in much needed air and buried her face in long, straightened blonde hair.

"You smell like heaven," she panted.

"I can't- you're here- what are- I missed you," Quinn stuttered into her shoulder. Rachel was there. Rachel was there in Statom Books. Her mind didn't want to believe it, but her heart already felt it. It pounded beneath her chest, poking out and grasping at Rachel's.

She pulled her in tighter, sliding a hand up and into her beautiful wavy hair. Her fingers clenched tight. Her eyes clenched tighter. And her heart clenched tightest. She was there. Rachel was _there_.

Rachel sighed into her shoulders, turned her head and buried her face into the blonde's neck. She inhaled all she could inhale, just needing to remember it. She needed every feeling engrained in memory: the smell of her love, the feel of her skin, the beat of her heart, the sound of her breath, and the ever familiar of sense of home in her arms.

She placed a kiss on her neck, and then another and another until they were lingering there because she couldn't pull them away. She tightened her arms around her waist, squeezed tight and pressed harder, aching to sink into her skin and curl up inside her.

She felt Quinn's pulse rocketing under her lips. She felt her panting.

She felt her losing herself.

"I can't believe you're here," she heard.

"I can't believe how much I love you," she answered.

She needed her more than air, more than bread, more than water.

She needed her more than singing and more than life itself.

* * *

><p>When time released them, however long later, air returned to the room. Space returned to the room. Peripheral sight and feeling and life returned to the room. And Quinn smiled shyly and stepped away, arms falling from Rachel.<p>

They missed her immediately.

"Hey girlfriend," Rachel whispered with a smile.

"Hey girlfriend," she grinned and it sent a flutter of joy over the brunette. Her eyes landed on those hazel anchors and those cheek bones and wide smile. She'd almost forgotten how striking Quinn was. She'd almost forgotten how just the sight of her turned her heart inside out.

She'd almost forgotten.

Because of Quinn.

She pulled her eyes away and let them fall over the shop. Books lined shelves, stacked in corners, splayed over tables and mainly just collected dust.

"So this is your… office? Is it called an office?" Rachel smirked, taking a few much needed steps away from the blonde and running her finger over a tabletop littered with a slight layer of dust, lived-in dust, the kind of dust that gave things character.

"We call it the shop," she shrugged. "And yes. This is practically where I live day in and day out."

"How are your friends?"

"Which ones?"

"Oh, um… Palo?"

"He went back to Barcelona a couple months ago. We email occasionally. He actually may be in the States soon. You could meet him."

"Oh, that'd be great. We could compare shoes."

"Mhm," Quinn smiled and perched on the desk by the door, watching as Rachel slowly floated from tabletop to shelf to desk, eyes finding everything but Quinn.

"And Maria?"

"Back to Argentina. She opened a dance studio with her sister. They call it the Tango Twins," she smirked.

"Clever," Rachel laughed. "I didn't know she had a twin."

"Not identical or anything."

"And Arna?" Rachel asked, picking up a book to inspect its cover. She read the title, mused for a moment, and then placed it back down. Quinn arched an eyebrow at the dismissal.

"What was wrong with that one?" she laughed.

"Huh?"

"That book, you just dismissed it by the cover alone."

"What? Oh, no I'm just looking around," she laughed furtively.

"Mhm…"

"So Arna?"

"She's good, living the same with a bit more money. It's why Statom adores her. She writes and keeps her mouth shut, never asks for anything. But people connect with her, I guess."

"Like you did."

"Yeah, like I did."

"And it's selling well?"

"Yeah, through Madrid. It's a small market, but acceptable for a start and a private publisher."

Rachel pulled her eyes up to the blonde, the changes becoming more apparent as words fell from her mouth. She spoke with knowledge. She spoke with confidence about something Rachel had never seen her speak about. She even hovered against the desk in a way Rachel had never seen her hover, as if, as if it she'd hovered there enough for it to be an unconscious act.

She pulled her eyes away.

"Where do you… like… make the books?" she asked, looking around curiously. Quinn giggled and shook her head.

"We outsource that. We're more, how would you say it, liaisons. We search out talent, strike deals, etcetera. And then a separate company makes the books."

"Oh. Interesting," Rachel mused and finished her tour by landing in Quinn's desk chair. She leaned back, settling into it, stretching her arms over the side rests and giving it a few squeaks left and right before she finally pulled her eyes back up to Quinn's. "Nice chair."

"Thanks," she smiled.

"You hungry? Have you eaten? I'm starving," Rachel asked, out of questions otherwise. What was her plan again? She was here to take back her love, but _where_ was her love? How does one take back something she can't find?

"I could eat. Let me grab my jacket and we'll grab some food," Quinn stated and hopped off the table before heading towards Rachel and the coat tree behind the desk.

As she passed her, a small hand whipped out and gripped her wrist.

The intimate touch froze Quinn and her eyes fluttered shut. She missed that touch. She missed the electricity it shot through her body. She missed the heat it flamed over her skin.

"Quinn?" came murmuring from below.

"Yes," she husked out over a breath.

"I love you."

More electricity spread throughout her, snapping and replenishing every nerve it touched. It reminded her of what she had and what she left in New York. It reminded her of high school, of dates, of their first, of reading in the loveseat in Rachel's living room. And instantly, her perfectly clear vision of her life now clouded up and over and all she saw was grey and Rachel's eyes.

She pulled her wrist free and grabbed her coat.

"Ready?" she chirped, voice laced with faux excitement and dripping with fear, hesitation and doubt.

Rachel looked on, seeing it all and seeing it clearly.

And it was the first time she saw the beginning of the end.

* * *

><p>"This is delicious," she purred over her pasta. "Is it because we're closer to Italy and it's more authentic or is it just that I've been living in New York for too long where all I eat are vegetables, Chinese noodles and sushi rolls?"<p>

"Probably the latter," Quinn grinned.

"Ah," she muttered and sank back into her chair.

The restaurant Quinn chose struck her as quaint and charming. An old Italian woman slaved behind the counter, shouting huffy Italian barks at whom Rachel assumed was her husband in the kitchen.

Or at least, she hoped he was her husband. It was sweet if he was her husband, but abusive if he was a worker. Somehow, that made sense in her head.

Worn wooden plank tables lined the restaurant and two saucer candles lit each of their centers. They were adorned with red and white checkered napkins and the full, wall length windows to their left allowed the moonlight to peer in from the night's sky.

The ambience created by all of the above set the epitome of romance and glancing across the table, staring at the blonde who looked a little less like the blonde she remembered, Rachel wasn't sure what to think. Her thoughts felt like a rollercoaster of knots, like a pretzel doing somersaults with a fire hose; one thing winded into the next and the next and nothing came out looking like it was or feeling like it should.

She didn't know how to navigate this territory.

"You look good," the blonde smiled. Her eyes seemed more sure, less innocent and fiery. Her posture touted confidence. The calm hands in her lap and the lack of flicking with her crossed leg told Rachel she was content there in that restaurant; it was a sort of home?

"You come here a lot?"

"No."

"Oh," she frowned.

Again, she felt lost. She knew of nothing.

"How's singing going?" Quinn asked, refolding her napkin over her lap and smiling at the brunette.

"Going well."

"Well…?"

"Yes,_ well_. I've been offered a few roles and the senior showcase will star yours truly," she said.

"Why do you not seem elated and what offers!" Quinn gushed.

"Just a few roles that are out there."

"Out where?"

"Broadway."

Quinn gasped and her hands shot to the table.

"You're getting offers for Broadway?"

Rachel blushed and pushed some fresh basil around her plate before nodding. Quinn gaped.

"Rachel! Why- what- I can't believe this! This is awesome. This is it; Broadway's your dream!"

"This is true," Rachel muttered.

Quinn gasped at the lack of response and then collapsed into her seat, confused eyes falling over the forlorn girl across the table. Who was she?

"Why, why are you not excited?"

Rachel grabbed her napkin, wiped her lips and brought her eyes up.

"You wanna get out of here? I'm feeling a little stuffy and full and I'd like to see your place. See how you live and where and stuff," Rachel deflected and forced a smile. It was the smile Quinn saw when Leroy got sick. It was the smile that exploded across her face but never reached her eyes.

It was the Rachel façade.

And the realization and memories that came with it knocked Quinn over the head and squeezed her lungs free of air.

She locked her gaze on the tiny girl, the tiny girl with her well kempt hair and perfect skin and immaculate make-up. She was the spitting image of stardom, right down to the hollow smile.

"Sure," she finally muttered. "We can get out of here."

* * *

><p>Quinn's apartment was nothing like Rachel imagined. She pictured piles of books, maybe some paintings, and maybe some drawings. Did the blonde keep drawing?<p>

But what she found was pristine organization. She found old, wooden, brightly shined furniture, an antique red couch, tan walls and a few photographs: one of them from sophomore year of high school at the park and one of them with their parents at the lake.

It was the picture they both had. It was the picture all five of them had.

Rachel picked it up and ran a finger over her smiling daddy holding Quinn, her arms stretched out and joy emitting from every inch.

She missed the lake house. It seemed like ages ago, lifetimes ago, when in fact it was four and a half years. They were almost twenty-two and adults, making their own lives and decisions. In the picture, they were seventeen without a clue or care in the world.

She kissed her finger, placed it to Leroy's face and set the frame down.

Quinn hovered in the tiny kitchen, white washed cabinets illuminating brightly against the tan walls. A red dream catcher hung from the small wooden chandelier above her head. It lit the blonde like an angel from above.

Rachel let her eyes fall over her. She wore dark jeans crusted with fashionable holes, one at her knee, and another on her thigh. She topped it with a white short-sleeve blouse, buttoned up the front and mini pockets on the sleeves. A dark green, sheer scarf bunched over her chest and fell beautifully to her pelvis. And her long, vibrant hair fell softly over her shoulders.

She'd grown up. She'd grown up and Rachel had missed it.

And whose fault was that?

"Tea?" Quinn called.

"Since when do you drink tea?"

"I guess about a year ago. I tried it one night with Palo. He went on and on about this so-called English tea and wouldn't stop. So I tried it and subsequently fell in love. Would you like some? You'll like it."

"No, thank you," she smiled.

"So Broadway, huh?" Quinn beamed and brought her cup back over to the table. She pulled out a chair and took seat.

Okay, so they were sitting.

Rachel wandered over, pulled out the opposite chair and sat down.

"I don't want to talk about Broadway."

"Oh."

"Sorry."

"Can I ask why?"

"Doesn't feel like I thought it would," she muttered.

"What's that mean?"

"Exactly what I said," Rachel chided and brought her eyes up to Quinn's.

How was she to fly to Madrid and fight for a girl who didn't exist anymore? How was she to come home with hope and optimism for their future when she couldn't for the life of her envision it?

Tension burned between them, Rachel quickly growing angrier at the blonde's life decisions and Quinn growing more aware of that anger.

"I didn't mean to hit a sore spot," Quinn whispered.

"It's not a _sore spot_. It's my life."

"Okay. Okay. Sorry."

"Stop apologizing."

"Okay."

Uncomfortable silence fell over them as Quinn sipped her tea and Rachel watched. The blonde burned under the unfaltering gaze. Even those hazel eyes shined a bit differently. She'd changed. Of course, she'd changed. It'd been two years. But two years of change without witnessing it and growing with it and changing _with_ it only left a canyon of space between them.

Rachel wanted to hit her. She wanted to step forward and hit her, smack the past out of her and demand a redo. Why did she do this to them?

"Do you like it here?" she muttered, needing to know even though she already knew. She could read it on the blonde from a mile away and something in that should make Rachel happy. And it would've made her happy had Quinn not needed to sacrifice Rachel to attain said happiness.

How was that love?

"I do, very much so. I feel like, I don't know, like I matter?"

"You always mattered," Rachel mumbled, eyes falling to her lap.

"I guess I mean in the bigger scheme of things."

"When will you come home?"

"Graduation in May. So that's what? Four months away?" Quinn smiled. "It'll be here before we know it."

"And you're staying, there in New York, right?"

"Yes."

"You'll publish Arna's books from there?"

"I'll have them organized for print before I go. And Statom has agreed to keep me on a form of branched off staff, except I'll be searching out talent in New York instead," she smiled. "So I'll be opening my own shop as sister publisher. Statom-Fabray Books. Nice ring, right?"

"Very."

"Be proud of me," Quinn pleaded and Rachel snapped her eyes up.

"Do you feel _grand_ yet?"

Quinn balked, her mouth snapping shut.

"Yes," she whispered.

"Was it worth it?" Rachel added and Quinn sucked in a breath.

"Time will tell, I guess."

Rachel nodded with attitude, her eyes refusing to leave the blonde. Quinn gulped under the stare and implications and blame. When the suitcase on her chest became too grave, she clawed her way out and stood, choosing to take refuge in the living room. Maybe she'd have better luck there.

But as she passed by Rachel, yet another hand whipped out to grasp at her wrist. It stung this time. It stung and Rachel's touch never stung.

"Bee," Rachel breathed, fear and regret and sadness falling out.

"Yeah?" she exhaled, eyes fluttering shut and wishing for refuge.

"Can I kiss you?" Rachel pleaded. She pleaded for something that had always been her _right_. The fact she felt the need to ask ripped Quinn's heart in two. She pulled her arm through Rachel's grasp until their fingers landed together and laced tightly.

And then she yanked on the hot hand, dragged Rachel up to her feet with it and brought their lips together. Trembling lips met trembling lips and the world vanished. Quinn dropped her arm around Rachel, their connected hands landing on her shoulder, and pulled her closer.

Rachel whimpered into her lips, the feeling of all she wanted and dreamed and thought of over the past two years finally letting her breathe. It'd been two god damn years.

"Open your mouth," she pleaded into those lips. Quinn moaned, pulled her lips apart and let Rachel slip inside.

Their tongues met and her ignition set fire. She snapped her other hand to the back of Rachel's head and held her steady, delving their tongues into each other and re-exploring every millimeter they already knew, but didn't know.

Nothing had changed, yet everything changed.

She wrenched Rachel closer, falling back into the wall and bringing the girl with her. Rachel groaned, slammed her hips into Quinn and squeezed tighter against the fingers trapped between her own on her shoulder. Her arm suffocated without space between their bodies, but she didn't care. She pressed harder into Quinn, needing more proximity. She yearned for proximity.

Quinn yanked her hands free, whipped off her scarf and pulled those lips back into hers. She kissed Rachel like she used to dream of kissing Rachel. She kissed her like she fantasized about kissing her that day at Noah Puckerman's. She wanted to slam her into the wall, claim her mouth and never let her go.

So she did.

She spun them around, backed Rachel into the wall and gripped at her thighs, pulling one up and onto each hip after the other. Each time she did, Rachel whined against her tongue and it sent shivers straight down her spine, through her cheeks and exploding onto her sex.

"I need you," she begged.

"Then prove it," Rachel countered, pushing her off and backing Quinn into the kitchen table. Her backside hit it with thud and she yelped in pain before stretching back and bringing Rachel with her.

Limbs cracked against the table as they crawled their way on top, Rachel towering over her with pure unadulterated lust and want on the mind. Quinn quivered under her, lay fully back and stretched out, smacking her tea cup and sending it crashing to the floor.

Rachel smirked, pulled up to her knees and ripped her shirt over her head. Quinn watched a perfectly sculpted body come into view and gaped. She was- she was-

"What?" Rachel muttered.

"You- you're- your body."

"My play had a partial nude scene."

"It had a _wha_-" she gasped as Rachel smothered the shock away with her lips and laced her tongue around Quinn's. She probed deep, sucked on it, caressed it, and then popped free.

"Problem with that?"

"Just wasn't aware."

"There's a lot you aren't aware of."

"Meaning?"

"Nothing," she muttered and reattached their lips. "Stop talking and take your clothes off."

"Take them off yourself," Quinn purred and spread her legs beneath Rachel. Her brown eyes dragged down, down, and down between them to see Quinn open and eager and begging.

Rachel reached down, snapped her jeans open and pulled them apart.

And then she realized she'd have to crawl off Quinn to remove them and that was just too much. She needed to feel her and she needed to feel her now.

So she reached back up and found the blonde unbuttoning her shirt. Rachel reached for the bottom and met her halfway, ripping the shirt off afterwards. Cold hair hit her skin and Quinn leaned up to unclasp her bra, finding Rachel without patience as she reached forward and pushed the cups up and off her breasts, fingers dripping back down to immediately attach to her nipples.

Quinn collapsed back onto the table, her head cracking against the wood and eyes snapping shut.

"Oh, god," she groaned. "God, I miss this. Two years is too long."

Rachel cringed at the words falling out of Quinn's mouth. Of course two years was too long, but whose fucking choice was that?

She pulled hard, eliciting a yelp from the girl, and then leaned forward to attach her lips around the right. She sucked hard, biting harder, and then moved to the left to repeat it. Quinn came apart underneath her and it gave her such satisfaction she didn't know how to handle it.

She circled her tongue around that beautiful peak and felt her own wet thong rub against her other lips as she shifted her body to the breasts. She was soaked just thinking about touching Quinn.

But what else was new?

She bit down hard yet again and hands snapped onto her hair, gripping tight and yanking her closer as a moan ripped from Quinn's lips.

And it was all too much. Here she was, hovering above the love of her life- right?- and it was all too much. Two years was too long. Two years changed things. It was all different.

Quinn looked different, acted different, and spoke different.

She carried herself different.

It was all _so_ different.

Rachel stopped.

Because there was one thing that would never feel different.

And she needed it. She needed to be taken back. She needed to feel like she was home again. She needed to feel something that reminded her of them and how life used to be. And there was one thing that would _never_ feel different. It would never, ever feel different.

She slid her hand down Quinn's stomach, squeezing lightly, and then shoved it past her open jeans and into the blonde's underwear, searching for the familiarity.

"Oh, fuck," she moaned as her fingers arrived, because even _that_ was different. "You're waxed," she panted again. "You wax bare now?"

"Sometimes," Quinn gasped and lulled her head back onto the table, Rachel's familiar fingers researching her like new. They pulled over her, between her lips, around her clit and dipped low between her legs. It drove Quinn wild.

And the slick, silky smooth feeling drove Rachel wild.

She needed to touch it. She needed to see it.

She needed to run her tongue over it.

She pulled back off Quinn, off the table, and her legs hit the floor. She smacked two palms to her jeans and yanked them off. Hasty, fiery and desperate, she reached up, grabbed her thong and disposed of it as well.

And then she saw her.

And she froze.

Everything was new. Everything was different.

She was _beautiful_, but a stranger.

Rachel's eyes moistened like her underwear and her chest heaved.

"Rach?" Quinn whimpered, head craned up from the table and weight supported on her elbows. "Baby, you okay?"

_Baby._

"Fine," she murmured, sank to her knees and dragged Quinn to edge of the table. Her mouth found lips and her tongue ran up the length of them.

Quinn's head gave way again, smacking onto the table with a loud crack.

It hurt. It hurt so, so good.

Rachel clenched her eyes closed and made love to Quinn with her mouth, with her tongue, with her teeth. She made love to the stranger lips between the stranger legs on the stranger table in that stranger apartment.

And all of it, even the familiar yet unfamiliar taste of the girl who once took her virginity, once badly drove her to a drive-in, once took her to Homecoming: Scared Homosexual Style, and once gave her the courage to chase her dreams, made her want to cry.

Because as her tongue slid inside Quinn for the umpteenth time, she knew it and she felt it in her bones, in her heart, and finally in her head.

It was the beginning of the end.

And how long would it take before Quinn walked away?

How long would it take this time?


	39. Chapter 38 HS Senior YR Late October

Late October - Senior Year of High School

_Take me home._

Sitting on the loveseat in her living room, Rachel's eyes found nothing. They stared through the room and found nothing.

_I've got three weeks, baby girl. But I'll fight for more._

It echoed in her head like a pounding on the door, like a basketball on hardwood above, like a drum beat that just wouldn't end.

She curled over, rolled into the back of the sofa and tried not to breathe.

It was the moment she started loathing the back of her eye lids. The second they fluttered closed she saw Daddy pumping his victorious fists in the air in the middle of a canoe on the lake. She saw him standing in the audience, front row and center, applauding her performance of Mariah Carey's "Hero" for the fourth grade talent show.

She saw him standing over the grill, ridiculing her at fourteen when she decided to stop eating meat. He teased her endlessly; did she not like his food? Did she not like his cooking? Was she _trying_ to hurt his feelings? Was she trying to make life harder on him? Now he had to learn about soy and beans and substitutes. For Christ's sake!

She saw him sleeping on the couch with his husband curled into his front. She remembered placing a blanket over their bodies that Christmas night when she was ten. She remembered standing over them, sending prayers to Santa to bring her a love like that.

She saw him dancing at the studio last week. She saw his weak, rhythmic hips pulsing to the Spanish beat and flirting with Dad. She saw his smile erupt and heard his boasting calls across the shiny hardwood floor: _Look at me, I'm tango-ing!_

She groaned into the couch, pulled her hands up to her face and smothered it. But they didn't stop.

She saw him running from the stray gerbil they bought her when she was eight. It got loose in the house. They figured it a lost cause when hours went by without a spotting. They thought that until shrieks exploded from the bathroom and Leroy flew out, arms in the air and gerbil running up his back and over his chest and beneath his shirt. Rachel had never laughed so hard.

She scrunched into her hands and prayed the images would stop.

But they still didn't.

She saw him lying back on the beach, arms crossed behind his head and barking instructions for her and Dad. He was the sand castle supervisor, he'd said. Rachel, at fourteen, knew it was only because he didn't want to help, but he sure did love to supervise.

She saw him dancing outside the sedan, in the street at a red light, because Dad had accused him of being too chicken for a Chinese fire drill. Seven year old Rachel giggled giddily in the backseat as he thrust his finger at his hip then pointed it to the sky, thrust it at his hip and then pointed it to the sky. _Who's chicken now, boy? _

She saw him in his bedroom, something she shouldn't have seen. She was thirteen and curious, or nosy as others would say. She wanted to hear everything they talked about. She wanted to be best friends with her fathers. So she snooped. She snooped when she shouldn't have and she saw them kissing. She saw her dad take his shirt off, barely reaching the tip of his head to pull it free. He was so tall. He was just so tall. Her eye pressed to the crack in the door. What was this? What were they doing? Her Daddy leaned into him and made a noise that made her stomach flip flop.

This was love? This was love-making? She'd walked away with a hand to her heart before she saw anything else.

She rolled further into the couch at the memory, tears starting to flow because they just wouldn't stop. They wouldn't let her breathe. They wouldn't give her a moment of comfort, air, and security. They just kept reminding her and showing her. Image after image, she saw her life with him. And image after image, she saw what she'd lose.

_I've got three weeks, baby girl. But I'll fight for more._

She saw what she'd lose in three weeks.

She saw her life wrapped around her Daddy flash before her eyes and she just couldn't stop. She sobbed into the couched, curled her knees into her chest and tried to breathe as he smiled back at her, that bright, huge, protective smile flashing light into her mind and burning her memories.

"Stop," she cried. "Just stop."

A sob wrenched free, wrecking her insides and begging for more release. She clenched her jaw shut and willed them away, cheeks aching and eyes draining. Her heart suffocated under the iron fist squeezing it tight. When would it stop? When would it stop?

Another sob shattered out of her and she reached down, grasped her phone out of her pocket and punched out at a text.

_I need you._

She hit send, gasping for air between sobs and waited. She waited for relief through a vibration and a ding. She waited for the familiar name. She waited for New Message to arrive. She waited for the front door to burst open and arms to pick her up, hazel eyes to rescue her for another countless time and for a warm body to give her something else to feel.

But nothing came.

She opened the same text, changed the name and sent it off again.

Two seconds later, her phone dinged. She swiped at her tears to see and pulled open the phone.

_You're strong. You're a rock. You survive. You'__re Rachel Berry, you don't know otherwise. _

And then another:

_And I'm coming over._

She collapsed back into the couch, sobs wrecking her and confusion abounding. Where was her Bee? Where was her love? And why would these images not let her be?

* * *

><p>Puck left his house in a hurry. In fact, he couldn't remember if he'd locked the door or even shut the door. His mom would pound him a good one when he got home, but whatever. It was Rachel. And Rachel was breaking.<p>

Slowly, every day, she broke a bit further. She broke in the privacy of empty rooms, dark closets, warm showers, and swallowing covers, but she broke just the same. To others, Rachel was standing strong. Rachel was powering through her father's bucket list, giving him the best last days of his life, ever smiling, ever chanting happiness and ever providing support like a daughter should.

But Rachel inside, she was a different girl.

She was becoming a shell, unsure where to put her feelings or how to process them or how to even step forward each day.

She stopped working out. She stopped bouncing through life.

She simply walked, smiled occasionally- especially if Leroy was around- and coasted through each day.

Puck saw the life draining from huge, innocent and unprepared eyes.

And all he could do was show up, because what else could he do?

As he skipped up her front steps, he took a deep breath and then let himself in. The quiet, empty house reeked of impending death. Every time he entered it stifled his lungs a bit more. There was less noise. There was less commotion. There was less laughter.

And as he wandered down the entry hallway, his feet took him into the living room to find a Rachel Berry ball of pieces buried into the back of the couch. It slammed metal rods into his heart and shocked it.

He snapped forward, hit his knees, slipped his arms beneath her and curled her into his chest. Her soft form exploded into a sob and she latched around him, puffy reddened face burrowing into his chest.

"Shh," he cooed. "You're okay."

"I'm not. I'm not."

"You are," he stated strongly and pulled her tighter. "You feel this?" he asked and squeezed his muscles around her body to emphasize her form. "You're breathing. Your heart is beating. You're okay. You _are_ okay."

The statement took her out of her head and into his arms. She focused on his squeezing. She focused on her heart. She focused on the heat on her face.

She was alive. She was breathing. She could do this.

Her wrecking sobs softened, gasping hiccups taking over.

Minute after minute, she slowly settled until she was breathing softly over sniffles into his neck.

"Thank you," she whispered.

"No problem. It's what brothers do," he smiled and placed a kiss to her forehead.

"Do brothers also kiss each other?" she giggled.

"You're a special kind of brother."

"I'm a special kind of man."

"Babe, you are anything but man," he laughed and sat her from down on the loveseat in front of him. He straightened her up, brushed unruly side bangs off her face and zipped her hoodie. "See? Look at you: all good."

"Thank you."

"Stop saying that."

"Okay," she smiled.

"Wanna tell me what happened?" he muttered, quite terrified of the response. Rachel didn't break for any reason; she broke for very, very specific reasons. And when she gulped in front of him, red eyes shooting to the ceiling to will the tears away, he knew.

"They gave him three weeks this morning. Dad called from the hospital an hour ago."

His head sagged, eyes fluttering shut and cinderblocks falling onto his shoulders. It was happening.

"Noah," she whispered, reached a hand out and pulled his chin up. Wet, sad eyes found hers and she broke yet again. Noah Puckerman could not cry. He couldn't. He was the tree stump to her fluttering leaf and she needed him sturdy, sturdier than she. "Please don't cry."

"I'm not crying," he bemoaned, swiping quick hands at his defiant eyes. "Puckermans don't cry."

"I didn't think so," she smiled softly. "I didn't think you had ducts."

"I don't. It rained earlier."

"Into your eyeballs."

"Exactly."

"I hate that," she giggled. "It rains in my eyeballs, too."

"We should get contacts that have wipers."

"Brilliant! Absolutely brilliant," she laughed heartily and collapsed back into the couch. He smiled adoringly and placed a hand to her knee.

"You wanna go see him?"

She nodded.

"Want me to come with you?"

"Why else do you think I texted you?"

"I didn't know," he muttered. "I thought maybe Quinn was busy."

"She always busy," she mumbled under her breath and averted her eyes. But he saw it. He'd seen it every day for the past three weeks. She was never there. She was never around. She was never at an arm's reach. And it pissed him off. It pissed him off royally.

"Let's go see Lee," he smiled. "I still have a bone to pick with him about the Bengals."

"You two are still debating football? Really?"

"Number eight on the list was an important one!" he fought.

"I hardly agree. _Feel like a jock for a day_ was not the best list option he's come up with so far."

"Yes, but it gave us something to talk about. I got to teach him a thing or two, okay? Let me have that," he pouted. "Even if he did mock me with it."

"That's Daddy," she grinned. "Let's go see that annoying boy."

Puck chuckled, stood, and reached out his hand with a smile on his face.

And to Rachel, in that moment, he was perfect.

* * *

><p>"Look, I'm just saying the colors are hideous!" Leroy boasted, bracelet and IV adorned hands outstretched and a smirk on his face.<p>

"Talking football does not include talking colors," Puck groaned. Hiram giggled from his worn perch in the corner chair and flipped to the next page in his book. And Rachel, curled into her eroding Daddy's side, smacked his stomach playfully.

"Daddy stop, he's trying."

"I know, I know. Sorry," he grinned at Puck.

"No, no. Don't apologize. I can handle my own. Don't fight this king's battles, Rachel."

"I'll fight whatever I want," she boasted and snuggled closer. Her tiny hand ran over her father's chest, falling over each ragged rib as she went. He was withering away before her eyes. She looked down at his socked feet and hospital gown. Spotted and bruised legs stretched out from it.

To be bruised from lying in bed for twelve straight days, she couldn't fathom how it must feel. She peeled her eyes up and locked on his as they watched the television in the north corner of the room.

His normally warm, vibrant brown eyes sat weak and tired in his sunken sockets, the whites around them mulled down to a pale yellow.

She bit her lip to hold back the tears.

She didn't cry in front of him. She didn't cry in front of Dad, either.

She cried when nobody could see her, even if Noah did in fact catch her once or twice. She had rules. She had control. She had people to support. She watched Dad cry and so she couldn't cry as well. She couldn't.

He already felt helpless, they all did; he didn't need to be worrying about his daughter as well. And she didn't want her daddy approaching the end thinking he was leaving a broken piece of shell behind in the world. She couldn't have him worry about how she would be.

She would fine. She would survive. She would survive for you, Daddy.

So breathe easy.

"Can you guys give a second?" she turned and asked Noah and Dad.

"Sure," they nodded, gathered a few things and left the room. The heavy hospital door hovered shut with a click and Leroy shut the tv off with the button on his bed before pulling left a bit to look down at her.

"What's up, baby girl? Something on your mind?"

"A lot."

"Want to talk?"

"Do you remember the Chinese fire drill?" she murmured and he shook with giggles.

"I do, baby. I'm surprised you do! You were so little! You have such a good memory."

"I know. It's kind of… it's kind of haunting me today," she confessed.

"Baby…"

"I just keep seeing our life together with Dad. I keep seeing all the fun things we've done. I keep seeing you so happy. And I," she stuttered, willing her tears to remain unshed, "I just want to remember them forever."

"You will."

"But Finn can't remember his Dad. He used to say because it was so long ago. I don't want that to happen to me. I don't want to not remember everything about you," she whimpered, tears slowly starting to defy her.

"Baby," he quivered, the confessions breaking his already broken heart once more with every syllable uttered. He pulled her closer and set his chin on her head. "There's nothing in this life that will take your memories away from you. I'll always be in your head, in your heart, and by your side. I'll be at performances. I'll be at the summer Juilliard try out. I'll be right beside Dad when he walks you down the aisle," he cried. "I will. I will. I promise you. So as long as you keep feeling me, I'll keep being there. Okay?"

"I love you," she choked out, scrunching her face to control it. Her eyes pinched shut and released the tears pooling on their edges. She sucked her lips into her mouth to chill their shudders.

But none of it helped.

So she turned, wrapped her arms around his thin neck and buried her face in his chest. And suddenly, all the images returned.

Leroy held strong despite everything inside him falling apart.

It was a strange feeling to be living while knowing you're dying.

The heart monitor told him he was still there, but everything around him felt like he was already gone. People he hadn't seen in twenty years showed up to the hospital to say goodbye. Tears were shed daily at his feet over sympathetic smiles and fake laughs.

He lay in that bed, feeling his body quitting, and all he could do was think and wait. What would happen? What would it feel like? Would another life begin, would he find himself at a gate of judgment or would he float away into peaceful nothingness? And which did he prefer?

And would Hiram survive?

He looked at his husband daily and prayed for strength. He prayed to whomever would listen because he didn't know who he believed was actually listening. Any ears that wanted to take his request, hear his prayer, provide him solace, he would accept them.

He needed to know his family would survive. He needed to know they would cling to each other. He couldn't go without knowing that. And as he lay in that bed, watching Hiram support Rachel and Rachel support Hiram, his heart beat easy. His thoughts slowed to a lull. And his life became about enjoying the seconds as they ticked off his clock.

His life became about hugs. It became about kisses. It became about shared stories, memories, laughter, and touch of Rachel's hand on his hand.

It became about the little things.

And the little things in a family like his rained down endlessly.

Rachel reenacted dances from her grade school performances. They laughed and critiqued her. Hiram retold stories of them in college. He shared their story, details galore, with Rachel. And Puck sat there, arm around his daughter like a soldier under fire, unflinching and unwavering, and he'd never been more thankful for a human being in his life.

And Quinn… he asked for her daily.

"Tomorrow," Hiram always said. "I'll go get her tomorrow."

He wondered if his parents would show. But he didn't waste a cherished breath by holding it for them. The people in life who mattered showed up before the end. They showed up daily. They showed up when nothing was happening, when there was nothing to gain.

So he didn't hold his breath for those people. He let them paint over the four people constantly in his hospital room. He gave them away to those people.

Because no one else deserved them.

* * *

><p>The swing in Quinn's backyard brought back memories. It reminded her of the day Rachel accidentally got drunk. It reminded her of the night of her birthday when Rachel went down on her twenty feet away from it.<p>

It reminded her of a promise of marriage and happiness.

And sitting there, swinging in the fresh air, she thought about that promise. Everything in her believed they would fulfill it. She didn't know why or how she still believed that. The visions she used to hold of their future dissipated the second she walked into the Berrymen's house after Juilliard.

She'd either lose Rachel to stardom or she'd lose her to life's ill ways.

Look at the Berrymen, look at how they were being ripped from one another and they did everything right. They did everything by the traditional book. They grew up in small town, stayed in small town, raised a family in small town and even then, they were being pulled away from each other.

Her heart shattered at only the image of Vanessa's words.

She couldn't fathom it shattering twenty years from now with Rachel in a hospital bed. She couldn't think of it and breathe at the same time.

It was as if the endless love she held inside cried for protection.

She knew they had a rare love. She knew it was the kind of love you never got over. She knew it was the kind that stuck people together for life. And if she lost it down the road, after years of feeling it wash over her every day for however many years, she knew she wouldn't come back from that.

She wouldn't.

Save herself now or lose herself later?

Fuck, she didn't know what she doing. She didn't know. She was seventeen and trying to understand lifelong love and death and how to overcome them and she had nothing to go on. She had no manual. She had no one explaining how to be. She had nothing.

All she wanted was the answers. All she wanted was to be told how to look at Leroy without breaking into pieces, how to hold Rachel's hand without swallowing her heart, and how to stand up and commit to something that could inevitable rip her to shreds if it ever fell apart.

How does one do that kind of life? How does she step up and live that way? How did… how did those people get that kind of courage? How did-

"Q?"

She whipped towards the house to see her best friend searching the yard, lock eyes on her and then bust out through the backdoor to run across the grass. Quinn hit her feet and Brittany landed at them breathlessly.

"What? What is it?" she gasped.

"Rachel's dad, he's not doing well. She called me. Said she's been trying to call you. And so have I. Where the hell is your phone?"

"I, it's," Quinn muttered, searching her pockets. In her room, it's in her room. She brought regretful eyes back up to Brittany. "My room. It's in my room."

"Dammit, Q. They're saying only a couple days. He's losing, losing, god what was the word? Something functions. I don't know. But you need to go. Go to the hospital. Rachel's there."

"Okay," she choked out, hugged Brittany and tore off to her car.

She had twenty minutes to get her shit together.

And those twenty minutes passed like twenty seconds. She peeled into the hospital, parked and jogged her way to the right floor, hall and door.

And then she froze.

Her eyes peered through the gridded glass window of the wooden door.

They fell on a broken Hiram asleep, half hanging off the chair in the corner. They fell on Leroy lying back in bed, eyes… eyes like hollowed tennis balls and unfocused as they wandered over the room.

They landed on her and his jaw sagged open, his skinny, skull-like jaw.

The empty, dead eyes fluttered over the window.

Did they see her? Did they?

_Leroy! _her insides screamed.

But the eyes kept fluttering.

See her. Please see her.

But they only stared lifelessly, lifelessly and hollow and discolored.

Where was he? Where was her protective second father and his serial killer ways? Where were the threats, the laughs, and the taunts?

Her eyes flooded with tears and her chest caved.

And then she saw her: Rachel.

Her face paled under the fluorescent light and her body sagged onto… onto Puck's. She slept in his arms in the foldout chair beside the bed.

Her normally peaceful, happy, and snoring face was nowhere to be found in that sleep. Her cheeks hollowed as if she wasn't eating. Maybe she wasn't. Her shirt didn't match her skirt. Her shoes were kicked off and her hair unruly.

She was a wreck.

And Quinn couldn't look at her.

She spun away from the window and flattened against the wall. She gasped for air as that suitcase threatened to squash her. She couldn't breathe, she couldn't think, she couldn't…

God, she couldn't.

She sank to the floor and collapsed into her hands.

She just couldn't.


	40. Chapter 39 Post College Graduation

Post College Graduation

_I'm just tired is all._

The concrete beneath her the feet, the horns blaring in her ears, and the smoggy stench in the air told her she was home. She was home in New York, if the city had ever actually really been home.

It was now.

She missed Madrid already. She missed Arna. She missed the architecture. She missed the walk to Statom with the leaves over the cobblestone and the Spanish romance in the air. She just missed it.

And it hurt her heart a bit more each second that past.

But as her feet took her along 7th Avenue to the building location scribbled in her palm, her eyes fell upon the darkened glass and she saw life looking up. She walked up to the glass, black sheet draped against it from the inside, and read the notice on the window:

Statom-Fabray Books

_Coming Soon_

The smile it elicited knocked her ears off her face.

She had a shop.

She spun around to take in the neighborhood: a park sat adjacent, a few brownstones interspersed between newer buildings, and a woman walked her dog, strutting towards her with purpose.

"Afternoon," Quinn smiled with enthusiasm.

She gave a lazy quirk of a smile in return and breezed right by.

Okay, so it would take time to get to know the neighbors.

But whatever.

She had a shop! She had a shop with her name on the window.

She spun back to the glass, closed her eyes and envisioned it:

Her binding littered desk would sit in the back. Shelves to the right would house manuscripts unpublished. Maybe in the front, against the window, they would place a table and showcase newly published works and soon to be published works. Yeah, yeah they could put up and coming things there. And she would have a sign that said, "We Are Not a Bookstore."

She grinned, bit her bottom lip and kept imagining.

Maybe they would have a mini kitchen in the back with the bathrooms. She could have her tea maker and a coffee maker for Rachel.

Rachel.

She could put a chaise in the opposite corner for the brunette to relax on when she visited. She could, she could have the picture from the lake house against that wall and frame covers of published works on that other wall.

She could see Rachel lounging on the chaise between the matinee and the evening show of whatever play she was headlining at that moment. She would sip her coffee and watch Quinn work. She would browse books on the shelves, dismiss them by their covers and Quinn would snicker.

She'd snicker and then she would walk over, wrap her arms around the girl from behind and hold her tightly while whispering derisions in her ear.

_You dismiss another book by its cover again and we're done._

_ You breeze over a book because its font didn't please and we're done._

_ You don't turn around and kiss me now and we're done._

She grinned and opened her eyes, the notice falling back into view.

She had her own shop.

She had something to offer. She was made of something.

She was standing there, feet pointing at a dream accomplished, and everything felt right. Everything was falling into place. She wasn't a sideline anymore. She wasn't a peripheral item. She was a thing. She had a thing.

She had a second heartbeat.

And she had so much work to do, including a graduation at Juilliard to attend. And even that brought a smile to her face.

* * *

><p>The joy beaming from Rachel's face as she parted the crowd and floated towards Quinn melted her. It melted her insides right out the toes of her feet. She looked fifteen in the cap and gown. She looked eighteen and on the stage at high school graduation. She looked twenty-two and mature and accomplished.<p>

She looked beautiful.

And she looked beyond shocked.

Brown hair fluttered behind, eyes in the crowd already following her. It was already starting, her celebrity stature. They didn't know her name, but they could smell the air around her. They could sense the impending future fame. She walked with it, swayed with it and spoke with it. It reeked off of her like it should.

Quinn had never been so proud. Twenty feet and the brunette would finally be back in her arms. She could take her to the shop, stand proud and beam under the glow of that tender smile and those adoring eyes.

Twenty feet and she would be home. She'd have made it.

And then Janey burst through the crowd, into the parted sea and swept Rachel into her arms. The brunette shrieked with joy, feet coming off the ground and spinning through the air. Red hair fanned out underneath her cap and they yelped with joy, spinning circles in Quinn's path of almost-there.

Janey stopped spinning, fluttered Rachel to the ground and flicked at her tassel with an elated grin. They exchanged words and laughs, Janey playfully jabbing her one too many times for Quinn's peace of mind. Rachel giggled under the touches, cocked her head and smiled sweetly as they finished their conversation.

Quinn's stomach churned over itself.

Why? She didn't know.

It was the first moment in years she actually physically saw someone else flirting with Rachel. Was she flirting? They were… they were best friends, Rachel said. At least, that's the word Rachel used to refer to her. So maybe it wasn't flirting at all. Maybe it was nothing, even if the words "best friend" stabbed Quinn's heart as solidly as the idea of flirting.

The first time it graced the blonde's ears was a year ago over webcam. Rachel told a story of her evening from the night before. She told the story of a boy trying to take them home. And then the boy, like a boy, upon rejection asked if they were together. Rachel found it downright hilarious at the time.

She found it so out of this world hilarious that it made Quinn smile.

And then she followed it with, "God, she's like my best friend. It'd be so awkward," and Quinn's smile fell.

She wanted all the titles. She'd earned them.

Hadn't she?

Rachel finally ended with Janey and picked back up on her path to Quinn, the smile a bit smaller. Janey had robbed her of its explosion. It should've landed on Quinn. The shrieks should've landed on Quinn. And now she was stuck with celebration part two.

She wanted part one. She deserved part one.

She buried the jealousy and forced a light smile as the girl fluttered up.

"You cut your hair!" she gasped, instinctively reaching out to flick the shortened strands darting in towards Quinn's neck. The choppy layers floated every which way and seemed to highlight all of her perfect features.

"I did," Quinn smiled, her skin burning against Rachel's touch. She wanted to step forward, wrap her up and take her right there. She missed her touch. She missed her heat. She missed those lips. Every millimeter of friction blazed her insides and choked her of air. She breathed nervously, willing herself to hold it together until they were indoors, and stepped back from Rachel's hand.

It didn't go unnoticed.

But it went noticed in all the wrong ways. Rachel only saw the blonde stepping away from her touch. She saw her needing to be free of proximity, for whatever god damn reason. Add it to the running list of Quinn 2.0's differences.

Rachel dropped her eyes to the ground, sneered and then deflected.

"Check me out: I'm gradumacated," she said and flapped her gown.

"You certainly are," Quinn smiled. "Join the club. It's a fun one."

"I hear," she muttered, eyes pulling a bit over the crowd.

The action didn't sit well with Quinn. She was looking anywhere but at the blonde. Why? Again, she didn't know why. She gulped it away and smiled, waiting for the-

"How was your flight in?" Rachel asked, reaching out to run a finger down Quinn's hand and then up her forearm before trailing back down to her hand. The blonde shivered and Rachel wrapped said finger tightly around hers.

"Long."

"Sorry I couldn't be there this morning. I hate that it fell at grad practice time," she frowned.

"It's okay. It wasn't a big deal," Quinn assured with a bright smile. She didn't want her to feel guilty. She didn't want her to feel bad. She just wanted her to feel elated. She wanted her to feel proud on her graduation day.

But all Rachel wanted was to feel wanted.

And clearly_, it wasn't a big deal._

"There's a party tonight at school. You interested in coming? Janey's going and Andre, remember him from summer tryouts so many years ago? He just landed lead in a new show as well. He'll be there. And… you know, all my other friends you haven't met," she smirked and gave Quinn a playful nudge.

"I actually have a lot of work to do tonight."

"What do you mean? You just got here. Come out with me."

"It's kind of a surprise."

"What kind of a surprise," she asked, brow furrowing.

"A really cool one."

A really cool, life changing one and she couldn't wait to show her.

"All right, I guess that's fine. I'm disappointed, though. I haven't seen you in four months and you're not spending your first night with me?" Rachel griped.

"If you're going out, you won't be home until late and-"

"So?"

"So why don't I just come meet you tomorrow for breakfast. And-"

"I have practice in the morning."

"For what?"

"My show?" she scoffed.

"Oh, right. What about tomorrow night?" Quinn asked and shifted her weight, the conversation turn and tone making her a bit anxious. What was happening?

"Graduates dinner."

"Oh."

"I tried to get you an invitation, but you never got back to me the other day. And so I tried, but-"

"Hey, no, it's fine. Don't worry," Quinn assured.

But Rachel wasn't worrying at all. She was simply reminding Quinn it was her own fault. It was. It was all her fault, all of it. And even now, she was back and standing before her, all the power in the world, and look how she was _still_ not stepping to the plate.

"I'm being honored," Rachel added.

"Huh?"

"At the dinner. I invited you because I'm being honored."

"Oh," she stuttered. "Wow, well that's fantastic. What for?"

What for? _Everything._

"Excellence."

" Well congratulations, Rach. I'm really proud of you. For all of this and for your show and for your honor and continuous track of award-getting," she giggled.

"Are you?"

Quinn guffawed and gave her shoulder a playful push.

"Of course I am! You okay?"

"Yeah, always. You know me, happy as can be," she smiled. "So then I'll see you Wednesday?" Rachel asked.

"It's our anniversary."

"So I'm assuming that's a yes."

"Of course it's a yes. It's absolutely a yes," Quinn snorted.

Rachel darted an eyebrow at the contradictions falling out of her mouth. Why would she assume it's absolutely a yes? Nothing is ever an absolute anymore. Everything she once felt and knew and thought of Quinn turned on its head. And if she was being honest with herself, it turned on its head over a year ago. So why was she still standing there with Quinn instead of beside someone who would've killed to be beside her, killed to be holding her hand, and killed to be with her every opportunity she got?

But no…

Quinn had to work.

Quinn didn't get back to her.

Quinn just didn't.

And frankly, she was tired of it. She was tired of being second on the blonde's list of priorities. She was tired of being sacrificed.

"It's good to see you. Welcome home?" she murmured and smiled.

And Quinn watched it not meet her eyes.

Why did it not meet her eyes?

* * *

><p>Quinn sat in front of her vanity in her new apartment a few blocks from the shop and she couldn't pull her eyes away from herself.<p>

She tried to see what Rachel saw. She tried to see what the brunette saw that made her so… so… unlike Rachel. Quinn closed her eyes and thought back. Rachel was in the heat of accomplishing her dreams. They made it through Madrid as Quinn accomplished her own. She had a shop.

And Rachel would love it. She would. She would love what they could build together. She would love to watch Quinn pound away at her passion just like she loved to watch Rachel sing.

Right?

She opened her eyes again. Hazel eyes met hazel and she saw her books. She saw passion, responsibility and drive. She saw a rounded out woman and that's all she ever wanted to be. She was a college graduate, a cultured American, and practically a business owner even though she didn't technically own the shop. But, but her name was on the window.

That counted.

She had a thing. And she had Rachel. And she was back in New York.

So why did it fell like the brunette was still an ocean away?

Why did it feel like Quinn had walked away again without even knowing? Had she done it? Had she done it again without even knowing?

She vowed to never do it again.

And sure, three years was a long time. Three years was enough to find herself, create a career and build her own foundation. She felt sturdy and alive.

But did she smother Rachel in the process?

She thought over everything. She thought about their visit in Madrid. She thought about the shortened communication. She thought about the lack of passion at graduation on Saturday.

It would take time to adjust. Right? She just got back. They had to find their groove. She didn't want to push her and frankly, she needed to relearn adult Rachel Berry. She needed to go slow, delve back into them and merge their lives. There'd be a learning curve, she knew.

And she was scared to death of messing it up, if she was being honest.

And staring at herself in the mirror, she was.

She was being honest.

She picked up her dangly diamond earrings and laced them through her ears, eyes falling to the black cocktail dress adorning her torso. She grabbed her eye-liner and leaned forward, those confident eyes growing before her.

What did Rachel see when she looked at her?

What did she see?

Quinn would kill to know what she saw.

And maybe tonight, she'd ask her.

* * *

><p>The restaurant on 3rd felt perfect for their evening. Low lights and private, curbed booth-style tables inset into the walls made up the room. Heavy curtains hung between each table and a jazzy-like bass flooded over them.<p>

Rachel sat across from her in a short black dress that clung to every chisel of her torso and merged into feathers around her hips. It clutched one shoulder for support and hung low around her on the opposite side. And beneath it, her legs stretched to heaven.

Quinn almost exploded when she stepped out of the cab.

She was breathtaking. Dark silver diamonds shivered on her wrists and dangled from her ears. She was a star. She was everything she wanted to be: classic Hollywood beautiful.

And across the table, hands in her laps and eyes on her plate, she looked fifteen again. She looked nervous and shy and unnaturally quiet.

"You feeling okay?" Quinn murmured. Those eyes pulled up to hers and Quinn's breath caught, but not because of the reasons it used to catch. It used to catch because they were breathlessly beautiful. It used to catch because they were endless and overflowing with love. It used to catch because they always screamed in need and want and lust.

And tonight, all she saw was brown.

It terrified her.

"I'm fine," she smiled. "How are you?"

Spill. Open the vaults and spill.

"Actually, I'm really, really glad I got to see you tonight because-"

"Rachel!"

They whipped left and Quinn couldn't believe her luck: Janey.

Janey in a bright red dress, hooker heels and beaming smile; Quinn hated her. She didn't know why she hated her, but she hated her.

"Jay!" Rachel beamed, the light returning to her face. It pained Quinn. It pained her to see someone else providing the light she used to. It was filling the void that Quinn seemed to now create. It took a stranger, a friend, to walk over and light up her girlfriend of nearly seven years… off and on.

_Off and on._

She'd apologized for walking away in high school. She had. And they talked about it, kind of.

Really they hadn't ever talked about it.

But they were on again. They'd been on again for almost five years.

The past was the past.

It didn't matter. Did it?

"What are you two doing here?" Janey gushed, sidling up to the table's edge and raking her eyes over Quinn. She squirmed under the look and averted her eyes. Who did this girl think she was?

And since when did she back down from a challenging look like that?

"Celebratory dinner," Rachel grinned, winking at Quinn.

"Oh, then we'll join you!" the redhead gasped in joy. "Andre and I are celebrating, too! Oh, wait, I mean if that's okay? I don't want to intrude."

Quinn pulled eyes up to Rachel and wanted to scream no! No it's not okay! It's never okay! But as Rachel's look asked her how she felt about it, she obliged and nodded.

She could oblige and nod. She had to merge into her life. She had to. She had to bond with her friends. She had to support the other side of the coin.

And she thought it was the right decision.

But it wasn't.

Rachel groaned inwardly.

Where was HBIC Quinn? Where was the blonde who took her into the bathroom at high school parties just to have her to herself? Where was the blonde who jumped overboard a boat just to get alone time with her girlfriend? Where was the blonde who snuck her out of the lake house, down to the tire swing and ate her underneath the moonlight because it was four in the morning and she couldn't think of anything else? She couldn't sleep because the idea wouldn't leave her mind. So she woke the brunette and took her.

Where the _hell_ was that girl?

Stuck in Ohio? Stuck in the rest stop back in Pennsylvania where she last made a bold move to stake claim on Rachel during their road trip to college? Was that the last time? God, she couldn't even remember. She couldn't remember the last time she felt claimed and needed, much less wanted to the point of necessity, as if her insides would explode if she didn't take her right that second.

It was enraging.

And she couldn't do a damn thing about it.

So she nodded to Janey and off she went, prancing to retrieve to Andre.

"It's our anniversary," she stated to Quinn.

"I thought it would be nice to get to know your friends."

Great fucking timing on showing up to that front.

Whatever.

Janey returned with Andre in tow. Rachel cursed the heavens, slid around the curve to land beside Quinn and let her friends slid in behind her.

"I'm Andre!" he grinned and extended a hand to Quinn. She beamed brightly and shook it.

"I've heard a lot about you, for years actually."

"Likewise," he winked. He was adorable from head to toe, a complete piece of flaming homosexual. She figured him mixed and it fit him delightfully, his light skin balancing his almost yellow brown eyes and bright fashion choices. She instantly understood why Rachel was so pulled towards him in the beginning. He was like a radar signal for happiness.

And Rachel gravitated to anything of the like.

"Look what I did," Janey cooed, scooting an inch closer to Rachel around the curve and displaying her wrist below the table's edge. Rachel's eyes fell to it and she craned further to see, scooting a notch away from Quinn in the process.

She looked down between them, already missing that notch.

"You did not!" Rachel erupted.

"I did! Doesn't it look awesome?"

"It's… it's beautiful," her girlfriend gasped, taking Janey's wrist in her fingers. Andre huffed and looked to Quinn.

"I told her she was stupid to tattoo her wrist. It knocked her out of roles with picky directors. But what's a queen's opinion to a woman?" he giggled.

"What is it?" Quinn muttered.

"A music note. Jay, it's gorgeous," Rachel cooed, running her finger over the design. The action set Quinn aflame.

"It's the first note of our senior showcase," she heard the redhead mumble between them. Her eyes burned hot watching their faces in such close proximity. She imagined it happened often. They lived together for four years.

What if they hugged over accomplishments?

What if they cried on shoulders over disappointments?

They cuddled during movie nights.

Hung on each other during innocent drunken dancing.

Saw each other naked after showers.

Took curious glances.

Thought of touching.

Oh god, she wanted to vomit.

She wrenched her eyes shut and willed away the jealous what ifs.

That's all they were: jealous what ifs.

Get it together, Quinn. Get it together now.

"You all right, blondie?" Andre chirped. She pulled her eyes open and nodded. He grinned and slid her drink closer to her hand on the table.

It made her laugh.

She threw back a gulp and let her eyes fall to the gushing friends to her right. Rachel mumbled on about wanting some sort of Juilliard-Experience related tattoo and Janey gushed her opinion of that idea over and over again.

Their friendship nauseated her. And she hated that it did. She trusted Rachel more than anything. She knew it was only friendship. But man if it didn't make her want to take Rachel even more. She wanted to take her on the table right in front of the red head.

But no, she could be supportive. She could. She could get to know Rachel's friends and delve into her life and be the girlfriend the blonde knew she could be, the girlfriend she wanted to be, the girlfriend she'd built herself to be.

"Can you believe Sarah?" Janey transitioned with a huff and a smile. "She still doesn't think she did it!"

"No! She did. There are pictures!"

"Lots," Andre added.

"What'd she do?" Quinn questioned.

"Nothing, just this stupid thing at the party the other night," Janey waved off, as if Quinn would've known had she been there. She saw it. She saw the glint in her eye. Right? It was there, right?

Breathe.

She was not jealous. She was supportive. Quinn was supportive.

But then Janey playfully poked Rachel's side and laughed about yet another joke that flew over Quinn's head.

And this time, Rachel's eyes darted to hers. They darted.

They darted as if, as if…

God, Quinn didn't know. She couldn't read her anymore. She was either checking to see if Quinn noticed because she knew it was more than playfully friend-like or she was making sure it wasn't being mistaken for more than that.

Her mind was going to make her pass out.

She inhaled and looked away.

Of course it was only friend-like. It was platonic. Rachel was trustworthy to the center of her bones. Loyalty was bred in the Berry family. She knew that. She knew that in her heart.

So she focused on her food and breathed.

And she missed Rachel turning away as a frown fell over her features. Rachel didn't know what to think anymore. The blonde had no fire. The blonde had no interest. The blonde just watched a beautiful redhead feel her side and all she did was smile and look away. She was the epitome of unaffected.

And that translated to out-of-love in Rachel's mind.

When you love someone, you're on fire.

Quinn used to be on fire for her.

And now, she looked away. She stepped away. She declined.

She checked out every chance she got.

And enough was enough… again. If the blonde wasn't going to burn for her on her own, she'd make her burn for her.

She leaned in to Janey, gripped at her wrist to caress her tattoo and whispered in her ear.

"I'm thinking a music note with the graduation date wrapped through it for me. What do you think?"

She pulled back, a slight bit of confusion spreading over Janey's face.

The redhead cocked her head; why did Rachel need to lean in for that? Why was she caressing her wrist? And why was her girlfriend's gaze locked to the other side of the restaurant?

Hey, whatever, she wasn't taught to ask questions.

She was taught to act.

She leaned back into Rachel.

"I think it'd be sexy on your ribs," she cooed. It churned Rachel's stomach because it was wrong, so wrong. She turned her lips towards the girl's ear.

"Nah, I'm just thinking shoulder blade or something."

She leaned back and stabbed at a vegetable before smiling playfully at the redhead.

What the heck was happening? Janey had no idea. She looked to Andre; he delved into his food and sucked back his wine. She looked to Quinn; smoke billowed from her ears as she pushed chicken around her plate and tried to engage the boy.

And then she looked back to Rachel, nonchalant and crush of four years Rachel. What was the girl doing?

But did Janey care? Not one fucking bit. She leaned back into her, sidled her lips up to her ear and then sat a hand down her thigh.

Quinn's silverware shattered to her plate.

They jumped apart, Rachel's eyes snapping to Quinn and finally finding red hot hazels burning into her.

"I want to leave," the blonde spat.

"Do you not feel well?" Rachel taunted.

"I feel fine. I want to leave."

"Are you going home?"

"_We're_ going home."

"I'm not finished," Rachel replied calmly, hand upturned and running over her plate to display her food.

"Yes, you are. Get up."

"Excuse me?"

"I said get up," she said and tossed cash on the table to cover them. She fumed. She fumed like she'd never fumed before.

"Might want to watch your tone there, caveman," Janey snapped.

Quinn whipped to her, vicious, vicious words sitting atop the tip of her tongue. She wanted to set them free and slice the girl to pieces. God she wanted to, but the girl was Rachel's friend. She had to bond with Rachel's friends.

A beat passed as she panted.

Screw that. This girl wasn't her friend. This girl was interested.

So it's exactly what she did.

"Don't fucking speak to me. And don't ever put your hands on her again. Rachel, get up. We're leaving."

"I said don't talk to her like-"

"I will _lay_ you _out_ if you open your mouth again!" Quinn snapped

And Rachel soaked through her thong.

She shot to her feet, let Quinn grip her hand and haul her outside. The hot, humid summer air hit them like a brick wall as they burst through the door. Quinn whistled for a cab and tossed Rachel's hand away.

Rachel gasped at the move.

It was enough to set her mouth free. It set everything free.

"Nice of you to finally fucking look at me like I'm yours!"

Quinn whipped around.

"What did you just say?"

"Would it kill you to act like you love me? Like you want me? Like you aren't fucking coasting through this relationship because it's just what we do now?"

Quinn swallowed her tongue. She had- she had- she-

"Speak!"

"I don't-"

"You don't what, Quinn? God, you never say _anything_ anymore!" Rachel growled and paced to the yellow taxi floating their way.

Quinn stomped after her, smacked her arm to move her further into the car and then followed in, slamming the door behind her.

"Juilliard," Rachel barked at the taxi.

"No, 26th and 9th." she countered.

"Make up your minds."

"I'm not going home with you," Rachel growled.

"Yes. You are."

"Like hell."

"26th and 9th or we find another cab," Quinn barked and he took off. Rachel snapped her jaw shut and glared.

"So what? It takes another girl showing interest to bring you back to life? Is that what it takes now? You could've just told me. I'd line the fucking block up with girls who've hit on me in the past three. Maybe that'd fix our problem."

"What are you- what- what girls?"

"I'm a fucking catch, Quinn! God."

"Why do you think you need to tell me that? I know that!"

"Because you look right through me! You step away from me. You pull back. You decline. You fucking checked out!" Rachel wailed, tears pooling and pooling quickly.

"I did not check out!"

"Oh really? Really? Then why haven't we kissed since you got back? Why haven't we hugged? Why don't you ever let me touch you?"

Memories, thoughts, and images ran rapidly through the blonde's head. She didn't- she didn't- she didn't do any of that!

Did she?

Had she?

God, had she?

She snapped her eyes to Rachel's; the previously dull brown teary eyes now burned hot and endlessly and open and poured into her soul.

She slammed forward and smashed their lips together.

Rachel yelped against her, fists pounding into her chest and neck craning to pull away, but Quinn only pushed harder, slid across the seat and pressed her tightly into the side door.

She fought those defiant lips until they gave under her demand. She shoved them apart, wetted the kiss with deep probing and then licked Rachel's tongue seductively. She groaned beneath Quinn and then bit down.

Quinn yelped, jerking back and grasping at her tongue.

"You fucking bit me."

"Yeah, what are you gonna do?" she taunted.

The tension pulsed between them, chests heaving with gasps ripping from their mouths. Angry eyes smoldered into each other until the livid turned wanton and they crashed back together.

Quinn turned her, slammed her into the back of the seat and crawled into her lap.

"Hey, no fucking in my cab!"

"Shut up!" the groaned and reattached their lips, tongues delving, clits aching, and underwear soaking by the second. Quinn rocked her hips into Rachel and hands slapped to her thighs, scratching up her legs and clawing at her thong. Nails ripped and pulled and scrambled over her pelvis. They shoved between her legs and palmed her roughly.

"Christ," she gasped, ripping her mouth free of Rachel's and collapsing her head into the seat. Rachel gripped her hard, tugging her fingers fast over her lips and bulging nub. She flicked it, circled it, and rubbed it rigid.

Quinn lost it above her, fucking her hips forward with every motion of Rachel's hand and all Rachel could do was sit there and stare in awe. She could sit there and listen in awe. She could sit there and bask in the feeling of touching the love of her life.

All the while forgetting- or ignoring- the fact that it felt wrong.

It felt empty.

It felt bad.

But it felt so _fucking _good.

And then tires screeched to a halt.

"Get out!"

"What?" they gasped.

"I said no fucking in my cab. Now get out!"

"Where are we?"

"Get! Out!"

"I'm not paying you if you don't take us to our destination," Quinn argued and crawled off Rachel.

"I don't want your money. I'd prefer my seats stay cum-free instead. Now out!" he barked and they flinched. He made it sound as bad as it was.

Rachel crawled out the door and Quinn followed, the humid air smacking into them once again, this time smothering their fire instead of igniting it. The taxi driver peeled off , leaving them panting on empty street corner. A dull lamp lit them from above and Rachel cursed herself, cursed Quinn, and cursed everything.

Angry hazel eyes darted to hers and Rachel didn't want to see them. She rolled hers, perched hands on her hips and looked away.

Don't cry. Do _not_ cry.

"Rach."

"I want to go home."

"I think we should talk."

"Four years too late, Quinn. Four fucking years too late. I'll find a ride myself," she muttered, paced past Quinn and whipped out her phone.

"It's not safe, Rach. Let me walk with you."

"How courteous," she muttered and it enraged Quinn. The sarcasm had to go. The flirting to light her up had to go. The blame had to go. The resentment had to go. It all just had to go.

"Fine! Walk yourself home," she spat, turned a one-eighty and stormed the other way. Rachel whipped around.

"You're just gonna walk away?"

"Says the girl who just walked away!"

"God, you- you-"

"What?" Quinn thrashed around to face her. "Say it!"

"You infuriate me! And when you don't infuriate me, you confuse the hell out of me!"

"Welcome to the god damn club!" Quinn wailed.

And with that, they spun and walked away.


	41. Chapter 40 HS Senior Year Early November

Early November - Senior Year of High School

_You awake? Hey? You awake?_

When her dad took her into the waiting room alone, she knew it wasn't good. Her daddy was getting even less responsive and she could see the gloom hanging over the room. She could see the nurses' modes switch from Prevent Death to Make Death Comfortable. She saw it.

She saw her dad avoiding her eyes. She saw people arrive whom she'd never met before, never heard of before, and never seen before. She saw flower baskets, cards, and balloons as if the clutter would make their room happier.

It didn't.

It gave her allergies.

All of this put together and she knew it. She knew. Her dad didn't need to take her into the waiting room to tell her what his eyes were telling her, but he did anyway. He did because he was a man and he was a father and he was her everything. They were it.

His heavy hand caressed her shoulder and his exhausted, hollow eyes raked over the side table, searching for words or, or something.

"Dad."

He pulled up to look at her.

And she knew.

Her face scrunched in impending tears and she nodded.

He nodded back, tears falling.

"I think you should go home, baby," he choked out. "Take Quinn and go home. You don't need to be here for this."

"But, but I do. I do. I need to be here for you."

"I don't _want_ you here for this," he cried, no questions asked. He wouldn't let his daughter see her daddy go. He wouldn't allow that mental image to be burned into her brain. It was enough to watch him deteriorate. Those thoughts would haunt her. They would, he knew, because they were already haunting him.

He couldn't let her see him take his last breathe.

He couldn't let her see the life float out of him.

He couldn't let her see a corpse.

She needed to keep seeing Leroy as vibrant and full of life and smiling.

So she needed to go.

"Take Quinn," he said again.

"She's down the hall with Daddy," she cried, willpower dying and tears flowing.

"Oh."

"She came to say goodbye."

"I'm glad," Hiram forced a smile. "I'm glad she came."

And down the hall, her other father said the same.

"I'm glad you came," Leroy muttered to Quinn, unsure if the command from his brain actually hit his lips. She stepped forward, so he assumed it did. But did it? She hovered to the left of his bed. She stood petrified a foot away. He was used to that expression. He blinked slowly, clicking his morphine button once more. He thought. It became as frequent as his breaths. He didn't know if it was giving him anything, but he just needed to click. At least, he thought he was clicking. Was he clicking?

He needed control over one last thing. So he clicked and he tried to control his eyelids. They failed him every other second. They failed him when all he wanted was one last look at his husband. They failed when he wanted one last look at his daughter's smile. The failed him when a voice came into the room and he needed visuals to recognize it.

They failed him, just like his body.

But not his mind, of course, that couldn't fail him.

He almost wished it had. Maybe it would be easier to lie in a hospital bed like a vegetable until your heart monitor stopped beeping. Maybe it would easier to not realize. Maybe it would be easier to not have to listen to goodbye over and over and over again. It reminded him every second that he was leaving. That he was done. That he was mush in a bed where he used to be a force to be reckoned with.

"I love you," she whispered, unsure what else she could ever say to him. "I love you like I love my own dad. You," she sniffled, "you should know that."

"Quinn," he tried again, eyes fluttering. Did it come out of his mouth? He wanted to stand up and hug her. He wanted to tell her everything he ever thought about her, but, but his tongue wouldn't move how his brain wanted it to. His lips wouldn't pull into shapes to make sounds that made letters that made words. He needed control. He needed to win. He always won. And here he was losing.

"Can you hear me?" she cried and stepped forward, hand grabbing his. "Can you say something? You can yell at me if you want."

He felt the heat.

He could squeeze her hand.

There. There. He did it.

Quinn looked down, praying for a squeeze, but nothing came.

"I'm sorry I let you down. I know I did. I wish," she cried, "I wish, I wanted to be here more. I wanted to be like Puck. I wanted to be the wall behind Rachel, the wall she could," she gasped and wiped her face, "she could lean on. I don't know what's happened to me. I don't know."

He knew.

He knew.

"I know."

Quinn wiped her face, wishing he could speak, wishing he would say something. She waited too long. God dammit, she had waited too long.

Sobs wrecked her and she shot her eyes to ceiling, mouth open and gasping for air. Her heart collapsed in her chest and she felt the cinderblocks on her shoulders crushing her further.

"You're okay, baby."

She gasped for air and gathered herself, a breath of strength brushing over her. She clenched her eyes shut and then brought them to him.

"I did everything I could to make you proud," she sobbed. "I waited with Rachel. I did. You should know. And when it did happen, it was sweet. She was sweet. It was perfect. You would've been proud of us."

"I _am _proud of you."

"You would've been really proud of us. I respect, I respect her more than myself, especially these days. I, I, I don't know what I'm doing anymore. I wake up, wake up scared. I wake up sad, so sad. And I wake up terri- terrified of a future that could really… god, just destroy me," she cried. "And because of that I'm destroying us now. And I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry."

"Don't be sorry, baby. I see you look at her. I see how much you love her. I see how much you want to step forward and take her hand. And I see why you don't. I see Hiram cry. I see Hiram curl into a ball like a helpless two year old and cry himself to sleep. I see it. So I can see why you're scared. Nobody wants that attachment. Nobody wants something that could rip the life from them if it imploded. Nobody wants that, but-"

"Can you say something?"

"I am saying something. Listen to me," he groaned.

"I just want you to say something. Anything," she sobbed.

"God, I am. You can't be afraid. You can't be afraid of what it could feel like it if ended. The risk of an end doesn't outweigh the years of good, baby. You have to be courageous. Love is hard, but the courageous survive."

"I used to call you Serial Killer Leroy in my head," she muttered through tears. "I'm sorry for that, too."

He laughed. He laughed boisterously and loud.

Didn't he?

"I wanted to kill you plenty of times," he said, "especially when I saw you and my daughter in the tire swing. God, I wanted to march out and kill you."

"I'm sure I did a lot you didn't approve of. I feel like I've done a lot I don't approve of. But I'm a good girl. I have a good heart. And I want Rachel to keep it. I hope you still think I'm good enough for her. I don't know how to be there for her or talk to her right, but I love her. I do, Leroy. I love her so much. And I love you."

"I love you, too."

"Can you hear me?" she whispered, her soaked eyes falling over his near lifeless face. Those yellow eyes fluttered opened and then shut. She looked to his hand in hers. "Can you squeeze my hand?"

"I am. I'm gripping it. I'm holding it, baby."

She watched the hand lay lifeless in hers and another sob wrenched free.

"I know you tried. I know you did," she nodded. "You always tried. I wish I could be more like you. I always wanted to be like you."

"You are like me."

"Maybe I'll be like you one day. Maybe one day I'll be the strong person Rachel deserves."

"Don't let it take too long."

"I hope it doesn't take too long."

"I love you."

"I'll miss you," she cried, squeezed his hand and stepped back. It was time. It was time to go, to walk away. Her face scrunched up again and she fought a new round of wrecking tears.

Oh, wait. Wait!

She stepped forward and sucked in a fresh bubble of air.

"I wanted to tell you. Your turkey, it's the best I've ever had. You asked me last Thanksgiving and I lied, because my dad was there. But it was; it was the best I ever had. You beat him. You did. You won."

He won something.

He won.

* * *

><p>Fall, fall, fall, it was fall. She could donate summer stuff. She could bag and box all of her old summer dresses and spring tanks and, and shorts. She flung coat hangers left and right, ripping clothes off and tossing them over her shoulder into the room.<p>

"Rach, what are you doing now?" Quinn muttered.

"Cleaning out my closet."

Okay.

Her eyes fell to the blank television. They fell to the photos on the bulletin board; a few were turned around. She tried to remember which photos they were, but she couldn't. Her clouded, chaotic mind failed her.

She also hadn't been in that room in a month and a half, or was it two?

She closed her eyes and listened to Rachel dig through her closet. Boxes rustled, clothes fluttered around and coat hangers shrieked against the metal rod. She saw Hiram escorting them out of the hospital. She saw his eyes rip through hers. She didn't know what he was saying. She was too tired to figure it out. He glared at her every day now. He never stopped.

Did he not see she was glaring at herself just the same?

Did he not see that her heart already shattered into pieces? He didn't need to remind her. He didn't need to shoot daggers into her face to tell her she was being an asshole. She knew she was, but her feet and her mouth and her head couldn't act otherwise. They couldn't.

She'd tried. She'd showed up to their front door countless times.

But her hand wouldn't knock.

She'd written Rachel letters.

But as she placed them in Fred's hand, her other ripped them back.

She'd texted, called, emailed… but disconnected before they connected.

She just couldn't.

She looked at Hiram and saw the wreckage. It could be her. He didn't know he was a walking, talking example of contradiction. He glared at her as if to scold for not being there, but he was there and breaking into pieces.

How did it feel? She imagined it was how she felt right now, how she felt saying goodbye to Leroy, but multiplied by a million and dragged through hot acid. She imagined it was like nothing. She imagined it felt like what it would feel like to not have a heart. She'd fail to beat.

Did Rachel fail to beat?

She watched her tear through her closet, the room slowly becoming an extension of it as she tossed things aside.

"Are we allowed to donate underwear?"

"What?" Quinn asked.

"Underwear, like panties, can they be donated?" she said, stopping to peer over her shoulder at the blonde stretched out on her bed.

"I don't think so."

She turned back into the closet with a nod and kept digging, tossing and sorting. Quinn should say something. She should. She should walk over and hug her. It would happen today, tomorrow or soon. It would. She should say something.

"Rach?"

"What about old toys?"

"Um, I think yeah."

The brunette turned back around, hastily combing back through boxes.

"Rach?"

She stopped, frozen over a box with her back to Quinn.

"You haven't kissed me since Juilliard," she muttered from the closet.

Quinn's mouth snapped shut and her heart caged itself.

"It's been an interesting two months," Quinn whispered, nails digging over her fingers in her lap.

"_You've_ been interesting," Rachel muttered and went back to digging.

"I'm trying here."

Rachel whipped around.

"_Are_ you?"

"I don't deserve that."

"Yes, you do!"

"You need to calm down before you say something you regret. Don't be irrational," Quinn muttered and sat up. God, she couldn't stop it.

"Why, because my father's _dying_? Excuse me for being irrational."

"That's not what I meant."

Rachel scoffed and turned back to the closet. Clothes, clothes, and more clothes piled around her hands. She needed more stuff. She could do craft stuff. And toys. Like that box there. She grabbed it and yanked it over. The lid fell open and her pink, plastic microphone and recorder stared back at her.

She lost it.

The tears erupted and she hit her knees.

Quinn shot up, hovering a few feet away. Go to her. Hold her.

"What- what- what is it?" she whimpered instead.

Rachel sobbed, reached into the box and pulled the spiral-corded microphone up into view. Quinn's heart sank. She'd heard the stories, seen the pictures, and watched the video. It was Leroy's toy. The toy he taught her to sing with when she could barely even walk.

Rachel crumbled over the box and Quinn's lead feet melted to the floor. She had nothing. She had no comfort. She had no words. She was- she was- she was gone. She was lost. She was dead inside.

And then broken brown eyes pulled up to hers. Wet streaks lined her flushed cheeks and anger flashed.

"Say something!" she cried. "Say something to me!"

"I, I…"

"You're supposed to make me feel better! You're supposed to be here for me! I should be sleeping on you, not Puck! I should be crying on you, not Judy! And I should not be sitting here with a box and crying by myself when you're four feet away!"

The words ripped Quinn open and filleted her.

But her feet wouldn't move, unlike her tears. They ran freely.

"Say something!" Rachel shrieked. "Make me feel better! Fix us!"

"Why?" she found herself shouting. "You're just going to leave me!"

Rachel froze. And Quinn snapped her mouth shut.

What had she done?

"What?"

"This is pointless! This is all moot! You're just going to leave me!"

"What the hell are you talking about?" Rachel yelled and hit her feet. "I'm right here!"

"You won't be," Quinn cried. "You won't be."

"You selfish little-"

"What? What am I?"

"Bitch. You are such a bitch. You're thinking about yourself right now? You're thinking about _yourself_?"

"I'm thinking about you! You are all I ever think about, don't you get it? You're everything to me. You're all I have! And look at your dad. Look at H. He's gone! He's vanished into thin air because life was sucked out of him!"

"So what, what does that even mean, Quinn?"

"It means I'm nothing and one day you'll realize it! You'll walk away because you're everything! Or you'll be like Leroy-"

"I can't believe you're saying this."

"You'll be like him. And where does that leave me? My heart can't take it, Rachel. It can't. It's broken just thinking about it. And that woman, that damn woman-" she cried.

"What woman?"

"At Juilliard. That woman, she-"

"What woman?"

"She, she… Nothing. She did nothing."

"Nothing? You're standing here saying this to me over nothing?" Rachel cried and chunked the microphone at her. The cord ripped mid flight and it snapped to the ground.

"I'm sorry," Quinn cried. "I'm so sorry." Rachel shriveled up into tears.

"What are you apologizing for? What are you doing?"

"I have to go."

"What?"

"I need to go."

"Are you breaking up with me?"

"No! Never!" But yes. "…Yes."

Rachel's already empty insides caved in on themselves. Her wallowing sadness swallowed her last ray of hope and died. It sucked into a black hole, leaving nothing at all.

"Get out."

"What?" Quinn gasped, eyes pulling up to find a lifeless face.

"You want to go? Then get out!" she shrieked, lifeless eyes turning red hot and then simmering back to lifeless. "Get out!" It was like watching fireworks; the night sky shined dead and then exploded. Her eyes sank into their sockets and then bulged with anger.

"What's going on?"

They whipped to the open door to see Hiram, red faced and puffy.

"Quinn was just leaving."

"Why?"

"Nothing. I'm going," she tried to cut off before Rachel unleashed and he learned everything.

"Because she's a coward, that's why!" she spat and the blonde flinched.

And then it hit Rachel. It stilled her like a boat slamming into a rocky reef. She whipped to her dad.

"Why are you home?"

His lips quivered and he nodded.

And that was it. That was the end of it. Her heart fluttered from her chest, taking the last piece of happiness with it, and her knees hit the floor.

Quinn stepped forward but Rachel threw a hand up.

"Get out," she whimpered and gripped at her recorder. "I don't want to see you. Ever."

What had she done? She looked at Rachel, on her knees before her, a broken shell of a tiny human and all she could think was what had she done?

"You heard her," Hiram spat.

Quinn whipped to him, eyes draining their endless wells, and then her feet took her to door as Rachel cried on the floor behind her.

"I'll be right back, sweetheart," he whispered and then gripped Quinn's arm.

He yanked her out of the room and slammed the door behind her before shoving her towards the stairs. Her robotic, empty body swayed with his movements. She let him toss her around because she couldn't think of how to walk otherwise.

"I gave you one job. One job!" he barked. "You're no longer welcome here. You don't deserve her. And I see what you've done. You think you're nothing without her, well there you go. You're without her," he spat and shoved her out the front door. "And I think you're _nothing_."

The door slammed and she stumbled down the front steps. Her feet tripped right and left until she hit her knees in the grass, sun beaming down on her and fresh air pooling in her lungs.

Her head sagged and she gasped for air between sobs.

What had she done?

She was officially alone. She was. And her heart had died just the same.

God, what had she done?


	42. Chapter 41 Summer After College June

**Post College Graduation - June**

**_We're close. Want to hit a diner? No._**

"Perhaps they are not the stars, but rather openings in Heaven where the love of our lost one pours through and shines down upon us to let us know they are happy," the man said.

And the casket lowered. It cranked into the ground.

She squeezed her hand, expecting the fingers she'd spent almost the past two years gripping and loving and touching to be there.

But she found thick ones, rough ones, large ones… comforting ones.

She looked up to Noah.

He looked down to her.

She looked across the way at her betraying anchors staring back.

And then she looked back to the ground.

And her eyes clenched shut.

It cranked and cranked and cranked. She squeezed again.

And again. But Noah wasn't strong anymore. He was fluffy and where- where was he going? Where did his hand go?

Crank, crank, crank.

She needed that hand. She gripped harder, but the fluffy.

The fluffy and the white overtook her.

She opened her eyes, willing those anchors away and all she found was pillow. She rolled right, cracked her eyes open further and found wall. She craned left and found short blonde hair.

And then she collapsed back into her pillow with a sigh. She rolled to her side, wanting to sink into the wall, and clutched said pillow.

"You alright?" she heard behind her, tension in the voice. There was always tension. There was always an undercurrent. There was always… something.

"Fine."

"Dream?"

"Nightmare."

"About?"

"The funeral," she muttered and Quinn rolled to her back, sad eyes finding the ceiling.

"I had them, too."

"After it?"

"Yeah."

"They've come back recently," she muttered and rolled to her back, right arm falling against Quinn's left. Rachel tensed instantly.

"Do you know why?" Quinn murmured.

"Could probably guess."

"Do you… do you wanna say?"

"It feels like four years ago," Rachel sighed, arm flopping over her forehead and legs stretching out. She was thankful she still had clothes on. She'd had one too many margaritas at yet another stifling dinner last night and when one conversation turned into yet another fight, it could've turned bad, really bad. She was thankful it hadn't. She was thankful they'd once again averted angry sex.

They'd averted sex at all.

"What do you mean?" Quinn whispered, pain and fear lacing her already husky voice.

"It feels like there's still an ocean between us."

"I know."

"You feel it, too?" Rachel asked, rolling to her side to look at her.

"Yeah."

The brunette dragged her eyes over the choppy hair, the terrified eyes and the matured features angling her face into a frown.

"I still love you, you know," Rachel whispered and those eyes shot to hers. They knew. Instantly, they knew.

"You're not _in_ love with me anymore, are you?"

Yes.

"No."

Quinn gulped and looked away, tears forming on her lids. They fluttered shut and she saw seventeen year old Rachel kicking her out of her house. She saw seventeen year old Quinn not stepping into her, hugging her. She saw Hiram saying she was nothing. She saw Leroy in bed as she told him she hoped it wouldn't take her too long to be the girl she wanted to be for Rachel.

It had taken her too long.

It felt exactly like four years ago, but this time she had something.

She had something and yet, it wasn't anything without Rachel.

She pulled her eyes back open and lulled her head to the left. She fell upon draining brown eyes. They drained in more ways than one. They drained out everything: hope, tears, sadness, regret, loss, the weight of the world.

"I love you," Quinn whimpered.

"I know."

"I'm sorry."

"For what?"

"For doing this to us," she wept.

"Why did you? Why did you have to leave me for three years?" Rachel whispered, swiping her tears and wishing her heart felt differently. She was in love, but she needed out. She needed out more than anything in her life. She needed happiness and light and rainbows; the stuff Quinn used to provide.

"I needed more than you," Quinn whispered.

"Was it worth it?"

"No."

Rachel nodded with finality, tears dropping from her jaw and drying on her pillow. She wanted to curl into it, grasp its fluff and sleep for years.

"You know, my dream always had you in it. My dream was captured based on feelings built by you. Your dream was about something exclusive of me," she cried. "And now you've found it."

Quinn sobbed silently and nodded.

"Yeah, I did. But I see you in-"

"No buts. I need out. I can't breathe anymore."

"Out?"

"Of this."

"You want to quit?"

"My heart already has," she whispered. "I'm sorry."

The blonde wiped at her face to no avail, her eyes wouldn't stop.

"I guess I deserve this."

"What do you mean?"

"For treating you the way I did. I deserve this, to be on this side of it. Life can balance now, right?"

"It's not about that."

"Then god, what's it about?" she sobbed, swiping more. "I keep trying to figure out what it's about and there's nothing. There's nothing out there to tell us what to do, what's right for right now, what's right for the future, what could happen and what should be."

"I know, Bee. I know."

"I'm so sorry."

"I know you are. I am, too."

"What do you have to be sorry for? You're still perfect. You're always perfect. I've never known someone so perfect," Quinn wept.

"I should've made us talk. I should've gone back to you after the funeral. I should've understood that you were seventeen and heartbroken about Daddy and scared. I should've, I just should've. We failed on talking across the board."

"We're talking now. Maybe we can-"

"I'm done."

"Rachel."

"I'm done," she whispered.

"You can't be done."

"You once were. Now I am."

"I came back," Quinn cried.

"And then you left before we were fixed. You left before you gave us a chance."

"I…"

"It's okay. Maybe we'll come back to each other yet again. But right now, it's over. It's been over, Bee. The only difference is that I finally have the courage to say it."

"I can't live without you."

"You did for three years."

It smashed into Quinn like a steamroller.

She had. And now she'd get to live without her forever.

With that, Quinn rolled into Rachel and cried the rest of her tears.

* * *

><p>Sitting alone in her apartment in New York, she felt seventeen again. She felt like she did a week after the funeral. She felt empty and without purpose. So she did what she did then; she talked to her mother.<p>

The phone rang once and a familiar voice came over the line.

"Hello?"

"Mom?"  
>"Quinnie?" she shrieked.<p>

"Yeah, Mom," she sighed, tears pooling at the sound of her voice.

"Honey, what's wrong? How is New York? How is the bookstore?"

"It's not a bookstore."

"You know what I mean."

"It's perfect," she griped and sat on the wooden trunk at the foot of her bed. She collapsed her head into her hands and pulled her legs up.

"Baby, why do you sound so sad?"

Her face broke apart and the silent tears fell.

"I messed up," she choked out and the line went silent. It went silent for far too long. She needed that voice.

"Honey… what did you do?" Judy whispered, worry falling over her immediately. Was she about to be disappointed in her favorite daughter?

"It was too much," she sobbed. "Three years was too much."

Rachel.

Judy knew immediately.

"Quinn, stop crying and tell me what happened."

"She broke up with me."

"Honey, why?"

"Because we're different; I changed, she changed. We don't fit anymore. She's angry with me. She's been angry with me for three years. And her heart… her heart. She stopped loving me, Mom," she cried, gasping one breath and then another. "She doesn't love me anymore."

"Did she tell you that?"

"Yes."

"The words?"

"I asked, 'You aren't in love with me anymore?' And she said no."

"Oh." Judy couldn't argue with that one. "What are you going to do, baby?" she asked, frowning and setting her book down. Paul Stein and Annie Brown had nothing on Quinnberry and Rachelbray, even them in their twenties.

"What do you mean what am I going to do?"

"Well surely you have a plan to get her back, right? You fight."

"I don't think I do."

"Honey."

"I don't think I'm enough for her."

"You used to think you were made for her. I remember saying those exact words to you at the kitchen table before high school graduation."

"That train of thought left me with nothing. If I'm made for her, what was made for me?"

"Your books, baby. Arna, passionate writers with a hope, they were made for you," Judy reminded. "You aren't nothing. You never were."

"I feel like nothing."

"You shouldn't."

"I drained the life out of her just to find mine, Mom," she cried.

"Honey, that's not how life works."

"Exactly. That's why we aren't together. That's why she lay in bed yesterday and broke up with me."

"Sweetheart…"

"Yes?"

"I don't want to say this, but maybe it's time you fly your own paths."

"What does that mean?"

"Let her go."

"And then what?"

"Pray you find your way back when it's time. But right now, let her go."

"But what if she changes her mind? What if she… what if she decides to talk about it? Maybe figure it out?"

"Talking never hurt anything. If she wants to talk, open the floodgates. Say _everything_ you wanna say. But if she wants to be quiet, if she wants to walk away, if she wants out… let her go and pray she comes back. I have faith in you two."

* * *

><p>Rachel's new place on 8th overlooked the greenest park she'd ever seen. Or maybe it was just the bay window giving her warm feelings for the view. She loved the bay window. She always pictured herself lounging in one, reading with her Qui-<p>

She always pictured herself lounging in one and reading a new book.

God.

She took a deep breath.

And then she shook her head out and walked into the kitchen to set down the box in her arms. She'd spent thirty-six hours cleaning out their off campus housing apartment the past two days. It reminded her of the days she'd torn through their home and gave away anything and everything she could after Daddy died.

They kept all of his things, but it just gave her something to do.

Just like the past two days.

She realized losing Daddy was very much like losing Quinn. She needed things to keep her busy. She needed activities to keep her mind racing. She needed… buzz. She needed white noise. She needed anything and everything to keep the voice in the back of her head to stop telling her she'd made a mistake.

Because she hadn't. She hadn't made a mistake.

They needed to be apart.

Otherwise, it would be two more years of near unhappiness and they would finally decide to actually be apart. It was time she stopped wasting years. It was time she returned her life to sunshine. She wanted to bounce around, to spit balls of fireworks, to dance in the rain. She used to be the energizer bunny.

Now she was just angry. She was angry and resentful and lonely.

That's why it wasn't a mistake.

Quinn needed her own life and so she went and found it.

Good for her.

Rachel would do the same.

"Where do you want these boxes, Ray?" a voice called from the door. "They're marked R. I assume that's… restroom?"

"It means Rachel."

"Why did you mark your moving boxes with your own name? Isn't that kind of redundant," Janey laughed.

"Because when I moved to college, Quinn and I drove together. Her boxes were marked Q and mine were marked R because she was going to Columbia and I was going to Juilliard."

"Ah," she muttered and dropped the box onto the hardwood in the living room. She stretched her back, smiled and clapped her hands.

"Is the 'Don't Talk About Quinn' rule lifted yet?"

"I don't know," she sighed. "It hurts, you know?"

"I know, babe."

"I feel like, like I lost a part of myself. But then again, I lost that part of myself three years ago when she left. It's just… I don't know. My head is confused. Is that normal?" she smirked.

"For you? Yes."

"Funny. I'm very smart, you know."

"Right, right, valedictorian, all that mess. You told me the first day we met," she laughed and then cocked a Rachel Berry pose. "'Hi! I'm Rachel Berry, valedictorian and music extraordinaire! You're my roommate!'" she laughed. "God, you were cute."

Rachel blushed and looked away. It was an odd… compliment.

"I am not cute."

"You're adorable and you know it," Janey laughed. "Hey, I'm heading back down for more boxes. You want coffee?"

Rachel sighed.

"I would love coffee. That sounds marvelous."

Janey grinned her movie star grin and her bright blue eyes lit up.

"Coffee in five!" she chirped and spun before freezing to whip back around. "And don't touch my J boxes."

Rachel looked around. "I don't see any J boxes."

"That's correct, because I'm not a loon!"

"Funny. So funny. Such a comedian, Janey Jansen is."

"You love me."

Rachel balked, eyes fluttering wider and heart aching at the comment. Janey reminded her of Quinn. She reminded her of Quinn from years ago. And in that moment, she realized she did love Janey. The girl was her best friend.

"I do," she sighed. "And thank you, for being there."

"Anytime, Ray. Anytime at all. I can be a lot of things."

"That so?" Rachel laughed.

"Mhm: a shoulder, a dance coach, an ear, a way to rub out your frustrations even."

"My frustrations?"

"You know," she smirked and wiggled her eyebrows.

"You're incorrigible and insane. Get out of here before I regret choosing you as a roommate," Rachel taunted, hurled a sharpie at her and laughed.

"Think about it," Janey winked.

And sadly, she did.

If only to feel again.

It's how she dealt after the funeral. It's how she dealt after Quinn walked away. She slept with Noah, though they never had sex. But she had to feel. She needed warm arms around her. She needed proximity. It's what she always needed: just to feel.

And Quinn knew that about her. She did. And yet she went to Madrid anyway. But something in Rachel couldn't fault her for it, if she was being honest. Quinn needed something. What would Rachel have thought of life if she didn't have Broadway? If she couldn't sing, what would she have been and done and felt?

Would she have felt like Quinn?

Maybe.

But she never could've walked away. She wouldn't have walked away if Quinn's mom died and she wouldn't have moved to another country just to find a passion. She wouldn't have. What did that say about their hearts?

They were different?

She knew Quinn loved her, but did she love having a life of her own more? It still didn't make sense to her. And that was the big gigantic issue all along. Quinn didn't make sense. She stopped making sense the first time they set foot in New York City for her summer try-

Wait.

The woman.

So many years ago when they broke up first, Quinn had mentioned a woman. What woman? She whipped out her phone and brought up a text.

_When we were seventeen, you cried about a woman at Juilliard__ when we broke up. What were you talking about? I need to know._

She sat the phone back down and placed her hands on her hips. What woman? What happened that weekend? They'd never talked. Everything came back to the fact that they'd never talked. They had so much love, endless love, but failed to talk. That weekend, god that horrible weekend, Quinn had shut down.

She shut down and she never opened back up until two days ago in bed.

But it was too late.

Wasn't it?

She looked back to her phone.

It sat silently.

She sighed. Because there she was again, being Quinn: declining and failing to show. Go fucking figure.

"Hey look, a Q box!" Janey boasted from the door, sweat pouring from her brow and a scowl on her face. "Should this go to Quinn's?"

"No."

"What is-"

"It goes in my closet."

"Oh. Okay," she smiled and headed into Rachel's room before coming back out with a tired smile. "I feel like I forgot something."

"My coffee."

"Nope, not that," she muttered and stopped, hand on her hip to mimic Rachel's. "How about a roommate who pulls her own weight?"

"Ouch!"

"Come on! It's four floors. I'm not moving everything. I know I have the dancer legs in our friendship, but christ, Ray. Little help."

"Okay, okay," she muttered and huffed as she headed to the door.

"You left your phone," Janey called, but Rachel was out the door and headed down the first flight of steps.

She looked at it curiously in her hand. Something in her wanted to open it. But no… No, she couldn't. It was just a phone. What interesting things could it possibly hold anyway?

And why was the thought even going through her-

It vibrated in her hand and she jumped a foot in the air.

"Christ!"

She dropped it on the counter and smacked a hand to her heart. Breathe, Jay. Breathe. She closed her eyes for a calming second and then reopened them.

Phew.

It stared back at her.

And something inside her couldn't help it. She leaned forward and looked at the screen: _Text from Quinn Cell._

Text from Quinn cell; _that _was certainly interesting.

She shot her eyes back to the open door; nothing.

She pranced over to the bay window and looked down. Rachel was at the moving truck playfully laughing with a burly black man and his moving partner.

She looked back to the counter where the phone glared at her.

They were broken up. It was everything she hoped for over the past four years. She had her moment. She had her chance. What if the text fixed things? What if it said stuff that negated her new chance?

She stormed back to the phone, opened it up and read the message.

Shit.

That was it. That would do it.

Shit, shit, shit.

She rubbed her eyes, checked her conscience at the door, and then, without thinking twice, she hit delete.


	43. Chapter 42 Two Years Later  Present Day

**Two Years Later - Present Day**

**_We're __almost home. It looks different._**

Life for Quinn changed after her text message went unanswered. She threw herself back into her shop. She threw herself into digging the streets of New York City for writers who needed the ability to share their voice. She combed workshops, she ravaged colleges, and she sat in on more than her share of live readings.

She poured herself into finding people who needed to speak.

All the while fulfilling her own need through them.

She hadn't spoken to Rachel since she sent her the answer she requested that day a couple years ago. She figured if that didn't make her want to keep talking, it was time to let her go, just like her mom said.

It was time. And for months after it, Quinn wanted to die.

Everything she worked for the past three years suddenly amounted to nothing. It amounted to nothing but setting Rachel free. How had finding herself simultaneously caused the loss of Rachel? She replayed their relationship over and over and over again in her head. When was the moment she checked out? Because thinking back, she had. She ran. She got scared and she ran.

It seemed to boil down to Juilliard. It boiled down to the moment her rose-colored goggles were ripped off and her innocent, traditional view of love and life was stolen from her by a bitter woman.

_Vanessa._

Quinn hated her those first six months after the break up. She channeled all of her rage into that single image. She even showed up to Juilliard in September for the summer program tryouts looking for her. And there she was, standing at the door with her smug face and her clipboard.

Quinn marched up, smacked the clipboard out of her hand and reared her palm back. Scared grey eyes met hers and she froze.

What was she doing?

She wanted to slap her, she did. She wanted to scream at her.

_You ruined my life!_

_ Who speaks to a seventeen year old like that?_

_ Do you get off on crushing teenagers' dreams!_

She wanted to scream it all.

But what on earth was she doing?

Her open hand dropped to her side and Vanessa stepped back, eyes scanning hers and fear softening.

"You're that girl," she said.

"Yeah, I'm _that_ girl. The nobody," Quinn replied before turning and walking off. She saw herself reflected in those terrified eyes and she didn't like what she saw. She saw a hand raised. She saw angry, desperate and lost eyes. She saw a wreck.

So she walked away.

She walked away back to her house, cried herself to sleep and woke up a new woman. She woke up, she went to work, and she poured herself into it. She took the passion she gained by sacrificing the passion she lost and she attempted to make herself happy with it.

It worked.

For the most part.

Palo visited New York City a year later. They rekindled their friendship with nightly dinners, endless talks, and reminiscing of Madrid. They gushed about Arna and the kick start. They brooded over Quinn's new projects, her new stars. They spoke fondly of Rachel and her latest accomplishments. She watched the gossip papers drag her ambiguous sexuality through the mud and back. She watched them dig into her personal life trying to find some shred of information.

But Rachel was a locked door, a sealed vault.

And Quinn liked it that way. She didn't need to know who out of the line of women around the block had stepped into her shoes. And she didn't want to know if her shoes sat unfilled. She just didn't want to know.

It left her heart in the cold freezer, safely frozen and with no chance of thawing. It's how she wanted it. She could focus on her shop. She could focus on Statom and his needs and goals. It all worked out really well… for about a year.

And then she needed more. Six months of pain turned one year of distraction turned into two of, "What if it's really over?" And those thoughts wrecked her.

So she renovated her apartment.

She started in the kitchen, worked her way through the living room and most recently finished the bathroom. All that was left was the master bedroom.

Something in her couldn't touch it.

Something in her needed Rachel's input.

And she hated it.

Palo told her to get a girlfriend. Judy told her to get a girlfriend. Statom told her to, "for Christ's sake, get a girlfriend!" But Quinn couldn't. Her heart left her chest in the middle of her bedroom when she was fifteen and it had never returned.

Rachel still had it. Rachel would always have it. Quinn didn't exaggerate when she said she couldn't live without Rachel. Because really, she wasn't living. She was a one-passion woman without a heart for anything else. It sat in the freezer with the ice cream she used to drown her tears when holidays rolled around. At least, in that first year she did.

The second year, she had no tears.

She felt that formerly steady heartbeat frozen in the block of ice to be dying. She tried to listen for it, tried to hope for it, but gradually it softened and softened. And her tears, her well of tears, had finally emptied.

Now she coasted. She coasted and she sat in the back row watching plays Rachel fronted. She sent congratulations, but made sure to sign them Quinn and not Bee. She needed her to know she was still there, because she would always be there. Rachel was her best friend, she always would be. And if having that meant Quinn kept her heart in the freezer and watched from abroad, that's what she would do.

That mindset settled her for the last six months of the two year period.

She settled into her coasted life and focused on the little things. She tried to find joy in Palo. She tried to find joy in her new books. She tried to find joy in the coffee maker in her shop.

Slowly, she found it. She could make coffee instead of tea and smile while seeing Rachel. She could walk down Broadway and smile while thinking of Rachel. She could stand on the curb and watch a bus fly by, Rachel's face plastered to the side, and she smile.

The girl was happy. She seemed happy, at least. She seemed happy in her dream. She'd accomplished everything she wanted so far.

And in the end of the last six months of year two, that finally made Quinn happy. She could breathe. She could live life as a one-passion woman and survive. She could deal without love, because she'd felt enough of it for Rachel in the near seven years they were together than most would feel in a lifetime.

She came to understand that was her story: She was a love lost girl.

And all along, she knew it.

Maybe that thought cost her the love of her life, maybe it was her track from the start. But regardless, she could finally breathe.

Two years and she could finally breathe.

It made her sigh.

And it lasted six weeks.

Because on September 20th, she sat in Statom-Fabray Books and the mailman walked in with an envelope that turned everything on its head. She dug through the pieces in her hand and fell upon handwriting she would recognize forever. There was no return address. There was no return name.

But she knew. And it flashed her back to Fred delivering notes, delivering love songs, delivering letters. But this time it was different.

The calligraphy terrified her. It terrified her to the bottom of her heart and her soul and her stomach where the bile was turning on itself and threatening to come up. She collapsed into her desk chair, the same chair Rachel had never seen in the same shop Rachel had never seen in the same city Rachel owned.

She stopped breathing and ripped it open.

And life changed as her frozen heart unthawed in an instant, wrenching back to life and aching with pain she'd never felt before, as if bowling balls were screeching through her tiny veins, forcing blood through them with pounding and pounding and pounding. It was going to explode in her chest and kill her for good. Not at Leroy's bedside, not walking away from a broken seventeen year old Rachel, and not even lying in bed with a defeated twenty-two year old had she felt anything like it.

Not ever.

Her eyes erupted, the wells replenishing as a river of pain, regret and confusion flooded into them.

She sat at her desk unmoving all day.

She walked home, but didn't remember when.

She took a nap, but never remembered waking up.

And apparently she made dinner, but couldn't remember it either.

Because now, as she sat in her apartment with Palo, sipping wine and not speaking, she held Rachel's wedding invitation in her hands.

And life was changed for good.

"I need you to say something," he whispered, curly long hair fluttering around his olive skin and chocolate eyes. He glowed in her apartment.

Most people did.

It was much like the apartment in Madrid, purposely. It gave her comfort. She bought a similar red couch. She bought a similar bulky, wooden and antique kitchen table. She splayed red and white checkered napkins over it. She hung a beautifully vintage dream catcher above, dangling lights all through it.

Her apartment screamed romance, just like her DNA used to.

But now she had none. She had none.

"I thought she'd always be out there for me," she whispered. "I always thought maybe one day she would come back to me. And now, now she's getting married… to Janey. I _hate_ that girl."

"Since when do you let things come to you? You ravish this city for talent on a daily basis. You plucked Arna out of a trashbag!" he laughed. "You're insatiable when it comes to attacking what you want."

"Not with love. I used to be that way. I remember dragging her up to my bedroom with only one need in the world: to kiss her. It's all I needed. I had such tunnel vision with love, you know? It drove me, every part of me," she muttered and sipped her wine.

"What changed?"

"I saw the other side of it. I saw the ugly and the so-called inevitable ending of heart break. And then I saw it destroy the happiest couple I knew. Put those together and I believed it would happen to me- that the odds were in my favor for heartbreak. And with a tunnel vision of love, my heart had nothing else," she sobbed and wiped a stray tear.

"And now?"

"She's getting married," she laughed hollowly. She laughed with such anger and shock and gut-wrenching pain.

"And how's that make you feel?"

"Like vomiting," she muttered.

"She's getting _married_, Quinn. Married!"

"I know."

"Married! As in to another woman, for forever. And all you can say is you feel like vomiting?"

"What do you want me to say?"

"_Married!_ Meaning they will have anniversaries. And inside jokes. And family holidays. And Janey in her childhood home!"

"I know!"

"Do you? _Married_. As in honeymoon sex and children!"

"I fucking know that! Stop saying that!"

"So how does it make you _feel_!"

"Angry!"

"And?"

"And like I want punch something!"

"That's it? That's _it_?"

"And like I'm going to explode with the regret that's eating me alive!"

"And! How does it feel knowing that girl is kissing _your _Rachel! The girl who took your virginity. The girl who promised to _wait_ for you!"

"Like my heart's ripping out of my chest, okay!"

"What else?"

"I feel possessive!"

"And?"

"And, and enraged!"

"And! Come _on_!"

"And, and, and like shouting at her that it's a mistake!" she shrieked and shot to her feet, hand slapping to her forehead, tears rushing free. "She should be with me! She should've been with me! She should be _marrying me_! And she knows that! She fucking knows that!"

"And how are you going to change that?" he goaded.

"I'm gonna, I'm gonna, I'm gonna march over there! And punch the porn star in her red fucking head! And _then_ kiss Rachel!"

"Okay, wait," he deadpanned, threw up his hands and stopped her pacing. "Back up. Back up. Eaasy."

"No! Let's go!"

"No, no, no… I love the fire. Mi dios, I love the fire. But you need a plan."

"A plan? God, my heart's racing," she gasped. "What kind of plan?" she repeated, the word sinking into her head and bringing her feet back to the table. She slid back into her chair and locked fiery eyes on Palo.

"A plan," he smiled. "A Win Back Rachel plan."

"Yes, yes I need a plan. God, my _chest_," she moaned and clenched at it.

"Talk to your mom," he encouraged, slid a hand across the table and gripped hers.

"Yes," she whispered, eyes wandering through her thoughts. "I'll go back to Lima. That's it. I'll talk to my mom. I'll talk to Brittany. I will get fresh air. I will visit my room. I will visit our park! And, and the drive-in! I will remember the girl I used to be, dammit! She's in there! I'll find, I'll find that girl who had nothing but one goal and a one track mind and always felt her heart pound and her body ache! And I will eat _breadsticks_!"

He gaped, rolled his eyes and went back to his dinner.

"You crazy Americans, I just don't even…"

"It's just bread."

"Whatever. Go get your shit together."

"Yes, yes I will get my shit together. I have shit. Look at me, I'm the shit! And I am fire! I mean I _have_ fire! God, my heart, it's… It's… I'm Quinn HBIC Fabray, god dammit! Gosh! Gosh dammit! Or just dammit!" she stuttered, eyes twitching left and right with every pounding thought slamming into her.

Palo snickered as she stood and paced into her bedroom, tossing a suitcase on her bed and mumbling about _shit_.

He laughed.

"Yeah, you got the shit alright," he mumbled. "And all it took was a wedding invite. Should've mocked one up ages ago…"


	44. Chapter 43 Six Days Later

SEE? You're all still alive! You did it! And look at me and my exclamation marks! I'm Lea Michele! READ ON:

* * *

><p>Six Days Later - Two Months from the Wedding<p>

_Wait, wait, wait! Stop the car!_

Planning a wedding was nothing like Rachel thought it would be. She figured it to be stressful, overwhelming, and well… stressful. But it wasn't. It was calligraphy and flowers and music, god the music, and church halls and ballrooms and _music_!

It was almost quite fun. Who was she kidding, it was very fun.

Because, hello, the music.

She had offers pouring in from across the entertainment world now that her impending nuptials went public. She could pick and choose from various acts, shows, groups, whatever she wanted! It was a musician's dream.

And she was living it!

And Puck would be there soon!

And Janey would be home later!

Things were just… they were looking up. And thank freaking god.

She'd struggled and struggled and struggled for a year until it just got tiring and she quit. She quit fighting it. She quit thinking about Quinn. She quit thinking about why there was no response, why there was no fight left in her.

She quit thinking about the lie she told their last time bed.

Yeah.

She looked to the window and sighed.

Okay, so she stopped thinking about _most_ of those things.

But either way, life was looking up! She was engaged to a beautiful, fun, lively woman with a career much like her own. They were sought after for events. They were written about daily. They laughed. They danced. They even had sex. Something she hadn't had in months!

And, well, it was, it was good sex. She didn't have much to compare it to. She had Quinn. And well, you know, Quinn could've just been a superhero or something at sex. Maybe she was freakishly talented and so that's not a good comparison. Maybe her bell curve was out of whack and Janey was normal!

Maybe.

Either way, she was happy. She laughed constantly. And she had romantic dates. And now they didn't have to hide them. Everything was out in the open.

And invitations were, were out. And everyone, they knew.

Everyone.

And it was fine!

Response was great and-

Her front door blew open, suitcases slammed to the floor, and handsome Noah Puckerman stared back at her. She'd never seen anything so perfect.

"Noah Puckerman," she smiled.

"Rachel what-the-hell-are-you-doing Berry!"

Her smile dropped.

"Huh?"

"What _the hell_ are you doing?" he repeated and paced into the room. His muscles bulged under his tight tee and the Boston cap atop his head gave him the boyish charm he was known for.

"Why are you barking at me?" she chided and rose from the chaise in her bay window. It was her favorite place to lie.

"What is this?" he spat, ripped a small envelope from the back pocket of his jeans and thrust it at her. Her eyes fell to it and she huffed.

"It's my wedding invitation, Noah."

"Um, yes I know that. I can read. I went to college, too."

"What's your problem then? I thought you would be excited with me! The reason, the reason you're here is because I need a maid of- best man. I invited you here to ask you that."

"I am not going to be a part of this."

"What?" she gasped.

"Do you need me to say it? Do you need me to be that person in your life? Is that what you need?" he spat and tossed the invitation on the chaise.

"What person? Why are you so… angry?"

"You're not in love with Janey! Why are you marrying her?"

"Excuse me? I most certainly am!"

"No, you're not. I can see it in the way you look at her. When you came up to Mass for my birthday, I saw it. Okay? I see it in the way you act around her. You're settling. You're one hundred percent settling and I've never been so disappointed in you."

"What gives you the right to come here and say this to me?"

"I'm your best friend!"

"No, you're a jackass!"

"At least I'm not marrying some girl because the girl I _wanted_ to marry-"

"Disappeared? Vanished into thin air? Walked away from me? Which one? Huh? Go ahead, finish your sentence! Pick one!"

Puck snapped his mouth shut at the outburst and Rachel averted her eyes. He couldn't see her eyes. He'd read her like a book if he saw her eyes. He'd see the tear slipping down her right cheek. He'd see the ache in heart that poured through when she actually listened to it.

"You can leave if you're just going to rain on my parade," she muttered. His anger evaporated and he chuckled at the line with a shake of his head.

"Come here," he whispered, stepped into her and took the tiny little friend in his arms. "I'm sorry."

"Me, too. You're not totally a jackass," she muttered into his chest, wrapped her arms around his strong waist and clung tight.

"Are you happy?" he whispered.

"Yes."

"You promise me?"

"I promise," she sighed. And it was true. She was happy. She was. She was happy in a different way than she always pictured for herself. But that was okay. She was still happy.

"Okay. Then I'll do it. I'll be your best man."

"I'm not wearing a tux," Rachel assured.

"I figured you weren't."

"I'm in a white dress."

"Okay."

"And so is she."

"Okay."

"Just wanted to clarify that."

"Feeling insecure about your gay wedding?" he chuckled.

"Little bit."

* * *

><p>Making popcorn was never her strong suit. It wasn't. She knew. But still she tried. And as she hiked herself up on her tippy toes to stare through the grid in the microwave window, she prayed this time, maybe this time, she'd get it right.<p>

Don't burn…

Dooon't… burn…

"You know you wanna be nice and tasssty," she cooed as it clicked down from the last minute. She sniffed long and hard. "So, so close…"

"Rach, you probably don't wanna stand that close," he interjected and she leapt back from the window with a gasp and a hand to her heart.

"Don't scare me like that!"

"What are you doing?"

"I never get it right. I'm determined not to burn it."

"You had popcorn at the famous Berrymen movie nights all the time growing up. How could you not make…" he trailed off. "Oh. Quinn made it, didn't she?"

"Kind of," she smirked. "One of the many things I've had to adjust to."

"It's a big one," he mocked and then, then sniffed. Oh no. "Rach…"

Her eyes widened and she smacked the microwave door open. A waft of burnt popcorn floated through her lofted kitchen and she groaned.

"Dammit. _Again_."

"Such a hard life you live."

"I know, right?" she chuckled, grabbed the edge of the bag and yanked.

He smiled at her jumping around the kitchen and bouncing the hot bag between her fingers. She was adorable. Still, at twenty four and in the early stages of stardom, she was adorable. And he loved her more than anything.

Even if she was being an idiot.

But he would deal with that soon.

Later, they landed on take-out Chinese and went without the popcorn. It was nice having Noah there with her. She felt… secure… in a life where she constantly felt on edge. She never really knew why, though. It was like something was always lit and sparking and just waiting to snap.

"Hey Noah?" she mumbled and curled into his side on the cloud-like leather couch in her living room. He pulled his arm up, let her snuggle in closer, and then gripped her tight. Her eyes fluttered shut and she could've slept. She could've slept for so, so long there on his chest.

"Yeah?"

"Do you ever think about life?"

"When I'm not chasing tail."

"So no?"

He laughed and squeezed her tighter.

"What's going on in that crazy head of yours?"

"I'm just thinking about things. Been thinking about things a lot the past week," she murmured and curled her right leg over into his lap to be closer.

"Like what?"

"Well, about Daddy. And other stuff."

"What about Lee?"

"I miss him a lot. Planning the wedding has made me realize what he misses by not being here. He missed my first show, my first Tony, my first major payday, and now my wedding day. He's missed it all."

"He's watching you."

"Hopefully not all the time," she murmured.

"I'm hoping you mean that in a self-deprecating way and not in a creepy sex kind of way."

"The first," she giggled. "I just wonder if he'd be disappointed in me."

"Babe, what's there to be disappointed in?" he murmured, leaned forward and paused the movie. He craned back, rotated into the arm of the couch and looked at her. Those vibrant eyes shined a bit dull for his taste.

"I mean," she started and pulled away to lay into the back of the couch, sullen eyes on his and pink blanket wrapped around her waist. She looked twelve years old and lost as could be. "You just said it yourself a couple hours ago. You've never been more disappointed. Do you think he is, too?"

"I shouldn't have said that."

"But it was honest."

"I know, but still…"

"Why did you say it?" she murmured genuinely, as if she wanted to hear his thoughts on something she already knew. He raked his brown eyes over her and debated; tell Rachel everything he thought and force the idea of Quinn back on her or let her take her new kind of happiness and be oblivious inside its bubble?

He didn't know what to do. He never did. He didn't know what to do when Quinn walked away when they were seventeen and he didn't know what to do when Rachel showed up in Boston, crying on his doorstep because she'd just broken up with Quinn two years ago.

He didn't know then and he still didn't know.

What he _did_ know?

They were meant for each other.

And maybe it was supposed to take this long to work out. Maybe they were supposed to feel what they had in a painful way instead of all the good ways they felt in high school.

Maybe they were supposed to lose it before they knew it.

Maybe… this was their path all along.

Quinn found herself. And Rachel finally felt someone other than Quinn.

Maybe that was the plan all along and now it was time for them.

Maybe?

"Look," he started, "I didn't mean to say I was disappointed in you. I just… I wonder sometimes."

"What do you wonder about?" she asked sincerely, eyes and heart open to any and all thoughts and feelings inside him.

"I wonder if timing was one of your biggest enemies with Quinn."

Rachel sighed and looked away.

"You can't avoid talking about her," he added. "You need to talk about her if you're about to marry someone else. It needs to happen, Rach. So do it with me."

"I wasn't happy anymore, Noah. I was miserable even. And to me, no matter how my heart felt, that mattered. I grew up with such vibrant… things. You know? My dads, my hobbies, my attitude, it was all about bursting into life and attacking it. And I loved that about Quinn. She had a passion-"

"You."

"Yes."

"Did it bother you that you were her only passion?"

"I've thought about that a lot. I've thought about what I would've felt like had I not had singing and Broadway and everything. Would I have been like her? Would I have needed something?"

"And?"

"All I ever needed was her. Even inside my dream, my drive for the stage, she was a part of it. And I didn't get that back from her. Janey, with her, I'm part of it. I'm involved. I'm not a sacrificed piece as if I'm in the way. Quinn made me feel in the way."

"I don't think she meant to."

"Maybe not. But she did. And then," she sighed, "there at the end, I tried one more time. Did I tell you that?"

"No, what'd you do?" he asked and curled further into the couch, comfort and the intimacy of the conversation falling over him. He so loved this girl.

"Jay and I were moving in here. I guess it was, what, like two years ago. And this thing hit me. It hit me like a mack truck. She'd mentioned this woman at Juilliard when we broke up in high school. It was presented like her driving force behind all of those emotions. And she sidestepped explaining it then."

"So you asked her?"

"Yeah."

"And?"

"She didn't respond, just like always with Quinn 2.0. She wasn't the girl I fell for. So you see, I just… Everything in me realized she changed. She wasn't the Quinn from high school anymore. She wasn't a force to be reckoned with. She wasn't vibrant anymore."

"But babe, maybe she was struggling."

"Why are you vouching for her? I get married in two months."

"Maybe you shouldn't," he whispered, eyes locked on hers and holding tight. He always held her tight.

"Noah."

"Maybe you shouldn't."

"Stop," she muttered and looked away.

"I can tell you're still in love with her."

"I'm in," she huffed. "I love Janey!"

"You can't even say it," he calmly stated and gave her a sad smile.

"Sometimes love isn't all you need."

"Sometimes it is."

"Sometimes it ruins people."

"Sometimes it saves them."

She huffed and crawled off the couch to her feet.

"Sometimes it's selfish! And this is that time. It's my time to do what I want and you either get on board or you don't. I'm not going to listen to this two minutes before I walk down the aisle. You support it or you don't. You choose."

"I don't. And you need to know that. But I'll stand with you up there. I'll be your best man. I'll throw you a party. I'll hold your hand. And I'll support you."

"Noah."

"Because I promised Leroy I would."

Her retort dissolved in her mouth.

Tears welled in her eyes.

And all she could do was try for popcorn round two.


	45. Chapter 44 Two Weeks Later

**Two Weeks Later - 40 Days til Wedding**

**_You have officially made me run off the road. I just said stop?_**

The flight from JFK to Lima was quite possibly the most exciting flight of her life. She drummed on her tray. She sang to music in her ears. She thoroughly got to know the nice, older gentleman to her right.

He wasn't too thrilled, but still! She made a new friend.

They wouldn't be keeping in touch.

But anyway! Her nerves were dancing, her heart was thumping and her feet wouldn't stop pounding the pavement. They were taking her everywhere. After her explosive, eye-opening dinner with Palo, she'd packed a bag, rushed out the door… and then rushed back in.

"I don't have a ticket!" she gasped at him.

"No, no you don't. Sit down."

So she did. She sat. And they talked more. And they planned. And she used that internet thing and bought a ticket. And then she had to wait. She had to wait two weeks, two long miserable weeks in the same city as Rachel Berry.

And well, that went really well, actually.

She went to Juilliard. She went back to the dorms. She lay in the courtyard in the middle of their quad. She went to Brooklyn to the theatre where Rachel had her first starring role in the city. She went to the play house where the girl first graced Broadway and she'd missed it. She took pictures.

She went everywhere looking for Rachel's imprint and seeing her past. She needed to learn everything she missed. She needed, if only for her peace of mind, to see the places she was too afraid to see and too afraid to walk upon and too afraid to be a part of. So she saw Rachel's New York City. She did.

And frankly, she loved it. Juilliard was beautiful once she took the time to see it. She lost herself lying in their grass, eyes to the sky and heart on a limb. She placed her hands behind her head, crossed her ankles, closed her eyes and remembered them. She tried to remember herself. She imagined their first time.

She remembered talking Rachel into it after she had the freak out. She remembered calming her down. She remembered sliding inside her. She had guts. She had guts back then.

She craved guts again. She could feel them brewing in her stomach as she canvassed Rachel's New York and waited for her plane ride.

And then it finally arrived.

She stepped off the plane, jittery as ever, and breathed the fresh Ohio air.

"I'm home," she sighed with a smile.

"Quinnie!" Judy wailed and tore onto the tarmac. Thank Jesus for small town Ohio. Quinn beamed, bounced down the rollaway stairs and straight into her mother's arms. They smashed together like a mother and child always should. Comforting arms wrapped around her neck and kisses peppered over her cheeks.

"Mom, mom, mom! Enough…"

"Let me love you!" Judy giggled, placed more kisses on her and tightened her hug again. "You feel heavier. Are you heavier?"

"Only three pounds, goodness gracious."

Her mom pulled back with a smile, beaming like she just saw Tom Selleck circa Magnum PI. Her huge smile broke into a gasp of relief and then she wrenched Quinn back into another hug.

"I love the hair, baby, but boy does it make you look older."

"How much older?" she mumbled into her shoulder.

"Well not like offensive older!" Judy laughed and pulled away. "Boy, you are just… you are just so beautiful," she sighed, straightened a few wild strands of her choppy hair and knocked a sweet knuckle to her chin.

"Thanks, Mom. It's good to be home."

And then her dad stepped into view.

And the fact that he had tears in his eyes made Quinn's heart melt.

"Quinnie," he sighed.

"Dad," she grinned. "I missed you."

He nodded, face scrunching up a bit.

"No tears, Dad. Come on now," she laughed. "Steel trap, Fabray."

He choked back his emotions, gasped out a laugh and wiped his face.

"Steel trap, Fabray. Never truer. Welcome home, honey."

"Thanks, Dad."

He stepped forward, grabbed her luggage and off they went. Already she felt better. Already she felt more alive. Already… she felt like she was finally on the right track.

* * *

><p>"No, no, no, with me. Listen to me and say it with me," she reiterated, eyes wide, hands up and fingers wiggling.<p>

Quinn simply sat back and laughed.

"Ready? With me this time! You know your lines, don't fail me!"

The kids stared with rapt attention, hands wide, eyes wide, and fingers wiggling. It was like looking at a rainbow of happiness.

"One, two…" she started.

"Buckle my shoe!" the kids shrieked and Quinn jumped out of her chair.

Oh, Christ.

"Three, four…"

"Knock at the door!"

It was so, _so_ loud.

"Five, six…"

"Pick up sticks!" they wailed, fingers wiggling and sunshine bursting from them. Quinn smacked a hand over her mouth to keep from laughing. And her best friend, lord her best friend, she stepped forward into the swarm of children, leaned low and put on her best excited face.

"Seven… eight!"

"Lay them straight!" the little beasts screamed. And Quinn giggled freely.

"Nine, ten!"

"A big fat hen!"

What the hell, she could do this.

"Eleven, twelve!" Quinn joined with Brittany's next cue and bright blue eyes shot to hers.

"Dig and delve!" they shrieked. Brittany jerked her head at Quinn to give her the go ahead. Why not, right? Life was about living now. She would live. She would do whatever. She shot out of her chair, jumped into the sea of kids, bent down, whipped out her wiggling fingers and smiled like she was having an orgasm.

They didn't need to know that.

But it was her happy face.

Sue her.

"Thirteen, fourteen!" she gasped and like a well oiled engine, a robust orchestra, a choreographed slew of a Olympic ceremony opening performance, they wailed together.

"Maids a' courting!"

"Fifteen, sixteen!" she and Brittany shouted, prancing through the children and gasping with excitement.

"Maids in the kitchen!"

"Seventeen, eighteen!"

"Maids in waiting!"

"Nineteen, twenty!"

"My plate's empptyyy!" they screamed, cheered and clapped.

Quinn erupted in laughter, joy, and heart-yanking hilarity.

They were beautiful, innocent, and precious.

They were life. And it was just the innocent joy she needed.

And later, sitting with Brittany behind her desk, she knew exactly why the blonde stayed in Lima and chose to be a teacher: she was damn good at it. In fact, she was built for it. She was perfect. She didn't have to fake her innocence. She didn't have to put on a faux smile. She didn't have to pretend to be excited to fall on the floor and play with six year olds.

Because she was, she was all of those things.

"You look happy," Quinn smiled as Brittany combed through a planner.

"I'm very happy. I won an award, you know," she boasted.

"Did you now? Whatever for?"

"First Time Teacher of the Year."

"No!"

Brittany nodded, nibbled her bottom lip and looked left, grinning at her little minions reading on the "magic reading mat". Quinn wanted a magic reading mat. She wanted one badly.

"I'm proud of you," she whispered. "I'm really proud of you."

"I'm proud of you, too, best fran. Big time New York bookstore owner and stuff!" she grinned.

"It's not a bookstooore," Quinn groaned. "I'm an editor! We publish."

"But they can buy the books in your store right?"

"No."

"I don't get it."

"No one does," Quinn smirked and shrugged. "But oh well. I love it."

"I can tell."

"Can you?"

"You look… I don't know. What's the word? You know more words."

"Use a first grade word if you must," Quinn laughed and Brittany tapped her chin, digging through her big, red block-word dictionary in her head.

"Light."

"Light?"

"Yeah, like… light. Like you no longer carry the weight of the world on your shoulders. I remember just staring at you over webcam the past couple years and wondering if you were wearing shoulder pads. You were always kinda slumped funny and frowning, like any woman wearing shoulder pads," she laughed. "You just look lighter."

"I'm three pounds heavier, actually," she chirped with a grin.

"Where oh where did you put it?" Brittany laughed.

"The ass. Always the ass. I get that from my mother."

"Luck you. I couldn't grow an ass to save my life."

"You dance it off."

"Oh my god, so true! Dance corner is the best!"

"My, my, you really outdid yourself in this life choice, Britt. It's perfect for you. Seriously, I don't, I can't even, it's just perfect."

"Let's talk about _your_ life choices."

"What about them?"

"Why are you here?" she murmured. "I mean, don't get me wrong; I love seeing you. It's been far too long. But what are you doing here?"

"Checked your mail lately?"

"Yes."

"And?"

"Yep."

"Thus the reason I'm here."

"How are you doing?"

"Actually, really well I think. I'm here to formulate a plan," she beamed.

"What does that mean?"

"It means I'm not letting her go without one last fight."

Brittany sighed with a smile.

"It's so good to hear you say that. I missed badass Quinn. I mean, successful and busy and relaxed Quinn is nice and all, but shit- _shoot_. Shoot," she rolled her eyes. "I just missed the girl I used to know."

"I've been here."

"Lost."

"But here."

"What's your plan?" Brittany smiled.

"Non-existent, actually. I spent the past two weeks in New York relearning her, the stuff I missed. It really settled some part of me, hard to explain. But I needed it. I needed to reach out to all the places I denied that year. If only for my head, you know?"

"Yeah."

"And now I plan to, I don't know, visit our old spots, see how I feel and stuff. Maybe something will come to me."

"Are you gonna like, Taylor Swift her?"

"What does that even mean?"

"You know, run into the church at the last minute and scream, 'Don't do it! Objection! Overruled!' or whatever they yell at weddings. What do they yell at weddings?"

"You mean when the minister asks if anyone disagrees with the union?"

"Yeah!"

"I don't know," Quinn laughed. "I've never seen it happen. Does it actually happen that way? Do people stand up and shout no?"

"In Taylor Swift songs they do."

"I'm not a Taylor Swift song."

"That's a shame," she sighed. "They're quite full of happy endings."

Quinn pondered over her own so-called happy ending. Did it exist? Was it with Rachel? Did she ever deserve one? Would she get it? Would she have to run into a church, make a fool of herself and plead at the girl's feet to get it?

Or would it happen before then?

Would it happen like she hoped?

And would Rachel even want it?

"You think I'll get my happy ending?" she murmured, eyes locked on her best friend, the girl who saved her so many years ago.

Brittany nodded, bright blue eyes washing her with hope.

"You've always had your happy ending, Q," she smiled. "You were just too scared to see it."

* * *

><p>Quinn spent the next few days canvassing Lima just like she'd canvassed New York. She took lunch to the park where she and Rachel shared so many moments. She sat on their swing and thought about how they used to get caught groping each other. She sat at the picnic table and had lunch, thinking about the afternoon with her parents before they left for college.<p>

She walked down the path and remembered their first hug after the break up and funeral; she'd promised so many things that day.

"You'll never give a speech to an auditorium full of people and not have at least _one_ of them care," she muttered, remembering. How many speeches had she missed? How many speeches had Rachel given and she wasn't there, front and center, like she promised?

She remembered Rachel stepping into her, wrapping her arms around her and hugging her. She remembered it being the first time they decided to go with the flow instead of talk.

Mistake number eight thousand.

Man, they were young. They were young and scared, but in love.

She walked down the path to the shore line and sat on the leaf-cluttered rock they'd sat on the day Rachel broke. It seemed smaller beneath her.

She looked out to the lake and sighed, eyes closed and wind whipping through her hair. The memory rushed over her and she opened her mouth.

"_Think I'm going hoooome_," she sang. "_Thinking I'm getting lost for a whiiile. Tired of gettin' stooooned… thinking about you in the night."_

She stopped and heard Rachel's voice pick up the song in her ears. It floated over her like the wind.

It floated over her like heaven:

_So I'll file away all my dreams even though I still believe in everything._

"_I wished your love away_," she joined. "_Hoonestly over you. Hooonestly over you. One… lie… short… of true."_

She felt the wind pick up the song and take it away.

She felt the weight of Rachel in her lap, on her thighs and against her body. She felt tears on her shoulder, arms around her neck, and hair flapping against her chest. She felt her.

She felt her.

And when she opened her eyes, she breathed.

* * *

><p>Twenty-four hours later, Quinn found her feet taking her to a place she didn't plan on going. She didn't plan on going because she didn't think she could. She was on a journey to find herself again, feel Rachel again, but she didn't think she could do it.<p>

Her feet thought otherwise.

And as they padded through the grass, leaves dancing in the breeze as she went, they came upon that named engraved in stone and she knew she'd made the right choice.

Leroy Berry

_Devoted Husband, __Proud Father, Supportive Friend_

She crossed her ankles and sat down in the grass before him. Her tears pooled instantly, though not to her surprise. She smiled through them and traced the L with her pale finger.

"Hey Lee," she whispered. "It's your least favorite girlfriend of your daughter."

She ran her finger over the e, circling it softly.

"I messed up again. Well, a few times, actually. But I'm not here to apologize. You probably get a lot of that. I won't bore you with it."

She shifted to the r with a smirk and traced it.

"It took me too long. You should know that. You already do. You've probably been haunting me. In fact, you're probably the one that keeps putting my napkins back in my cupboards. I swear I put them out and then, what do you know, they're back up."

She smiled, swiped another tear, and danced over the o.

"You seem like a haunter. But that's okay. It keeps me on my toes, just like you always used to. It's kinda the same actually. It keeps me scared- well, of ghosts this time, not serial killer bugs, but still. Same difference, right?"

The y swooped under her finger and she daintily followed it down.

"I love her still. But that's probably not a shock to you. She's getting married, though. And no, not to me. I know, I'm just as upset," she laughed. "Don't pretend like you're not upset."

She jumped to the B with a grin and continued.

"I'm going to do something, because we're meant for each other. I don't believe she's in love with her, mainly because I can't imagine my heart ever not being in her hands. And I can't imagine she feels any different about hers."

The next e came and she wondered what it felt like to be dead.

Did it hurt?

"So I'm going to do something about it. Because I'm Quinn Fabray. And I hope you approve. I'm sure you do. You told me you loved me that day and I believed you. I believed you meant it. A father wouldn't have said that if he didn't mean it. So I'm going to believe you'd choose me."

She fell to the r and smiled.

"And if you don't choose me, well, I'm not going to tell Rachel that. And you keep your mouth shut, too, because it's none of your business," she laughed. "I'm kidding. But not really. If you still hate me, shhh…"

She dropped to the o; it felt silky smooth beneath her touch..

"I love you, Leroy. I do. I miss you every day. I dreamt about you for a while. I couldn't sleep. I cried a lot. I wished I could've been there for Rachel, but I at least knew Puck was, mainly at my request. I hope you could see that."

She fell to the y and sighed.

"I hope you're happy where you are. And I hope I can make your daughter happy. I'll come back to you and apologize if I can't, if she doesn't choose me. I will. I'll come back."

Her finger dropped from the headstone and she grinned.

"So I'm going to go out on a limb and say this will be the last time I see you. Because I have hope. And I can feel my guts. I feel them ready to be brave. It's all I ever wanted, you remember? I just wanted to be brave. Well, I finally made it. This is my moment. And I hope to God," she whispered and turned her face up to the sky, "I hope to God I'm provided a little help. Because I think I'm going to need it."

* * *

><p>Her last stop on her tour of the past was simply dinner with her parents. She thought about visiting Hiram, but what if he'd met Janey? What if he liked her? What if he was happy for Rachel? What if he got word back to her?<p>

She couldn't do it.

So she sat down with her parents on a regular Friday night and had their usual dinner. It was just as it was way back when and her mom even made her favorite chicken, pea and pasta casserole. She dug in and prayed it went to her breasts, not her ass.

"I love seeing you eat," Judy giggled.

"That's weird," she mumbled over her food.

"No, it's not. I remember sitting here, years ago, hoping to God you didn't wither away to nothing. Well look at you now, baby."

"Yeah, I got junk in the trunk."

"Beautiful junk," her dad murmured.

"Creepy, Dad."

"Compliment, sweetie."

"Still creepy."

"You two hush," Judy giggled. "Tell me what's new, honey. You never did explain why you're gracing us with your presence. I seriously can't assume it's vacation. You make decent money to take yourself somewhere nice."

"No, Mom, not vacation," she said, wiped her mouth and placed her napkin on the table. Judy's eyes followed her every move; something was up. Something was very up. She knew her daughter was preparing to break the news, whatever the news was. God, she couldn't take it.

"Don't tell us you're pregnant."

"What?" Quinn gasped and then erupted in laughter.

"You look like you have some huge bomb you're about the drop! It's the first thing that comes to mind!" Judy argued and Russ stuck out a hand to hush her.

"Quinnie, let the record show that we _do_ want grandchildren, regardless of your mother's previous outburst."

"Oh God, you guys. Just stop. I can't get pregnant. There will be tests and medical things and all sorts of hoopla when babies come."

"Gosh."

"What?"

"Gosh, not God," her dad muttered.

"Sorry."

"New Yorkers," he grumbled and Quinn snickered.

"So what is it? What is it? Come on!"Judy begged.

"Okay, okay. I got some news the other day. And, I needed to come back to Lima to get my head sewn on straight. I needed a little… inspiration… and advice. And that's where you two come in. It's going to sound a little, I don't know, crazy. But life is crazy, right?" she asked, a bit of doubt in her voice.

Their eyes narrowed.

"Quinn, what'd you do?" Judy muttered.

"I haven't done anything… yet. Okay, look, just… take a breath…"

Their eyes narrowed more.

"We don't need breaths. Spill."

"Rachel is getting married."

They gasped.

"There's gonna be a wedding!" Judy shrieked with joy.

"Mom! Not to _me_!"

"Wait! What'd you say before?"

"_Rachel_ is getting married," Quinn groaned.

Their wide, excited eyes fell flat and horror ran over her mother's face.

Her dad turned into his usual gargoyle.

And tears damn near flooded Quinn's eyes. But no, not again. No more tears. She was strong. She was courageous. And she was a fighter.

"Say something," she whispered.

"What- how- to whom?"

"Janey Jansen."

"The porn star?" Judy shrieked.

"Yeah, Mom. Her college roommate."

"Wow!" she gasped. "Look how that worked out."

Quinn nodded, aggravation blatant and seething.

"So then, I mean, I guess I don't understand why you're here," Russell added and Judy nodded, leaning onto the table and plopping her chin on her fist.

"Well, I'm here because I'm going to do something about it. And I wanted some advice and a pep talk and some history flowing through my veins before I went for it."

"Wait, back up," Judy huffed. "What do you mean you're going to do something about it?"

"I mean… I'm going to fight for Rachel."

"Honey," Judy guffawed, "she's getting married."

Quinn's eyes went wide at the implications behind the statement.

"What are you saying? I should just let her get married in a month and a half? Just let life take it all away?"

"It's only a month and a half away?" her mom gasped.

"Yes. They're having a holiday style wedding in New York."

"Oh, how beautiful," Judy sighed.

"Mom!"

"Sorry! Look, darling, you're not a child anymore. You can't prance into someone's life after they've clearly made a choice only to cause a ruckus in their current relationship. You're only going to hurt her."

"But-"

"You reached out two years ago, Quinn. You sent that text. You told her. And she didn't respond. Baby, you let her go. She let you go."

"But I didn't-"

"It's not right to show up at someone's wedding or even right before and lay this stuff on them, honey. It's not right. If Rachel wanted to be with you, she wouldn't be marrying another woman. Plain and simple, darling."

"I can't believe-"

"That I'm saying this?"

"Yes! You were our biggest fan!"

"I still am. I love you both. I love you both so much. But, sometimes, it doesn't work out. And it didn't work out. She made her choice, Quinnie. You can't roll back into her life because you realized your mistake and demand she chooses one of you."

"Why not?"

"It's not fair."

"I didn't think 'fair' was in an adult's vocabulary," she snapped and glanced at her father. "Can you say something?"

He looked at her and wanted to tell her to go for it. He wanted to tell her he was proud of her balls. He wanted to tell her it was about time. He wanted to tell her he almost hadn't gone for it with Judy, but look what it got him. He wanted to tell her that Hiram would say every day for the rest of his life that he never regretted making a move on Leroy even though he lost him and had to endure the pain he did. He wanted to tell her that love was all life was about. He wanted to be that father for her.

But Judy was shooting daggers into him.

And he couldn't cut her legs out from under her.

So he didn't.

Instead, he looked at his daughter and he smashed her dreams:

"It's over, sweetie. Respect her decision. You made yours so many years ago and now she's made hers. Let her go."


	46. Chapter 45 Six Months Ago

Six Months Ago - Spring

_Do you remember when we stopped at Overlook Park?_

Screen on the Green was Rachel's favorite, all time favorite, New York activity for the spring. The grass in Central Park blazed green, everyone boasted happiness from lulling out of the horrific winter and she got to relax on a blanket and watch black and white movies of classic love play over the make-shift screen in the grass.

It instantly took her back to childhood, watching Humphrey Bogart and Ingrid Bergman and Maureen O'Hara. They loved with a passion she craved and adored and tried to mimic in her own life.

She didn't pretty well, too, she thought.

Every Saturday, she woke with excitement just _wondering_ what the company would be playing that evening and who all would be joining them and if she would bring cheese and crackers or just beer and chips. Would it be classy or casual that evening?

They loved mixing it up.

And Janey loved keeping Rachel on her toes. She lived to impress the girl. She lived to make the girl laugh. She lived to do everything in her power to keep Rachel forever. And Rachel appreciated the effort. She did. She recognized it. And she made a point to be grateful for it.

And as they walked through Central Park, hand almost in hand, she felt happiness waft over her. She felt it blow through her hair as a few people on blankets thrust fingers at her, mouths dropped open in excitement. She smirked at their joy. She knew what it felt like.

She thrust fingers at the screen when Barbra came on it. She gaped in joy and excitement and her heart fluttered with delight.

Not that she was comparing herself to Barbra… yet… but she was just saying she understood it. She got the joy. So she made a point to wink, to wave back, to smile and make a fan's day.

Because, really, it made her day. It made her day to walk through the park with her girlfriend, think about the classic Hollywood black and white they were about to find themselves soaked into, and wave to a fan. That was her life now and something in that was beautiful.

She knew.

She was a lucky one. She'd had, she'd had rough spots and she'd felt grand love and lost grand love, but she was still lucky. Walking through that park on that beautiful May day, she felt lucky.

And that alone calmed her heart and made her grin.

"Hey, Jay," she whispered and bumped the back of the girl's hand with her own. It was the closest they could get to holding hands in public and she was okay with that. For some reason, she was okay with that.

"Yeah, babe?"

"You make me happy," she murmured with a smile.

Janey's face lit up. In fact, it lit up like never before. She beamed, literally glowing as they walked through the park and the sun set over them.

"And you're kinda pretty, too," Rachel added, bumped her hand again and watched the girl's cheeks flush to match her hair. It pulled loosely back into a low ponytail around the base of her neck. Its end curved around her shoulder and fell over her simple grey top which she adorned with a scraggly, white rope necklace. She was striking without even trying and something about that reminded Rachel of Quinn.

"I adore you, you know?" Janey replied, sliding a finger out to run it down the back of her hand. "And I would do anything for you."

"I know."

"Good."

Rachel smiled, heart fluttering to a lull and they went about the rest of their evening comfortably. They laughed like normal. They splayed themselves across their blanket, Rachel's head on Janey's stomach, and talked about all the ends and outs of their life together.

They talked about their first kiss in their living room.

It happened suddenly.

Rachel walked out of her bedroom in a towel post shower and it stilled Janey in the kitchen. She froze, the two eggs in her hands plummeting to the floor and bursting on the tile. Not even that snapped her out of it.

She stepped forward, walked across the room and took the previously zombie-like girl into her arms.

"I'm gonna kiss you," she stated as Rachel's eyes bulged. "And you can tell me to stop if you want, but I'm still going to kiss you."

Rachel remembered it fondly.

It was just the kind of punch in the gut she needed to snap herself out of her dazed life. She got up, she went to work, she sang. She got up, she was offered roles, she sang. She got up, she maybe won an award, she sang.

That day, she got up, and she got kissed.

She let Janey kiss her to save herself.

And every day since, she searched out new things to love about her. She loved how she danced. She loved the raspy laugh that followed the sarcastic wit. She loved her long, toned legs that could endlessly wrap around her. She loved watching her across the stage during the play they were both cast in those three months. She loved watching her twirl and she loved watching her sing; it was something Rachel wasn't aware she had a talent for.

She did, boy did she.

Rachel found herself appreciating more and more, laughing at more and more. She found herself popping out of bed, jumping into Janey's, and giggling at whatever they could find to giggle at that morning. Most times, it was Rachel's childhood, which she shared willingly until it hit age seventeen.

That year was a black hole when it came to their relationship.

They just didn't go there.

And Janey didn't mind. She didn't need to know everything about Rachel right then and there and that second. Because frankly, if all went well that night in the grass, they would have the rest of their lives.

Lying back on the checkered blanket, the sun set fully and the park was blanketed with darkness. She reached forward, laced her fingers through Rachel's and held tight.

She loved darkness. She loved privacy. She loved closets and her bedroom and Rachel's. It meant she got to hold that hand. It meant she got to kiss her. It meant she got to be with Rachel Berry, Broadway extraordinaire.

And tonight, she'd be hers forever.

The movie credits opened and chirpy music filled the air. Rachel leaned further into Janey's side and sighed, happiness pooling over her.

It lasted about thirty seconds.

Her heart dropped. Her breath caught. And her skin crawled.

"Bringing Up Baby" plastered across the screen and all she saw was sixteen year old Quinn. She saw Quinn driving her dad's truck, badly. She saw Quinn crawling over her, kneeing her purposely in the crotch. She saw them bantering, fighting, and holding hands. She saw them kissing amongst a mound of blankets in the back, before she-

"Made sandwiches," she whispered and her eyes fluttered shut.

"Huh?" Janey murmured, bright eyes on the screen and excitement in her heart. The world sucked Rachel out of her memories and slammed her onto the blanket beside Janey. She turned right and found bright blue eyes.

"Oh, nothing."

"Isn't Kate marvelous?" she murmured and Rachel wanted to cry. She wanted to downright cry.

"She's perfect."

She wiped her dry eyes, her clammy mouth and patted her cheeks.

Snap out of it.

Janey watched her gather herself, curious as to what was floating through her head. She had those moments often. Janey figured her a bit fluttery, just like Kate. It gave her charm, screamed endearing.

It made Janey love her even more.

And she figured it was time.

She leaned forward, took Rachel further into her arms in the darkened park and placed her lips against her ear. She felt the star shiver beneath her touch and it made her smile.

"I love you," she whispered.

Rachel nodded, smiling sweetly.

"I love you, too."

Because she did. She really-

"I want to marry you."

Rachel whipped to her right, heart falling out of her chest and eyes following.

"You what?"

"Will you marry me?"

"Janey."

"It's a yes or no question, Ray. We're perfect together. We never fight. We wake up happy. We're sought after talent and we understand each other. And I love you. I want to be with you forever. So, again, will you marry me?"

Rachel heard the words. She heard them falling from that gorgeous mouth and that sweet face. She heard them flap over her heart and try to take hold of it. She did. But despite hearing all of that, she saw Quinn.

And as Janey reached down into her pocket and pulled out a sparkling pink diamond ring, Rachel saw grass. She saw a grass ring.

She saw it on her finger. She heard makeshift vows in her head.

_I, Short Stack, promise to stay faithful simply because I'm annoying and no one else will want me. I promise to stay true because I don't know how to lie. And I promise to be here when you come back… because I can't exist without you._

She gulped.

"Ray, say something, anything. My heart is kinda pounding out of my chest right now," Janey murmured, kissed her lightly on the cheek and rested her forehead to the side of Rachel's.

"I need a day."

"You what?"

She turned to the vulnerable redhead, gripped her beautiful face and held back all but one tear.

"Can you give me one day?"

"I, what kind of answer is that?" she whispered.

"It's an honest one. I love you and I want to be with you, but I need one day to get my head in order. You deserve that."

"One day?" Janey grumbled.

"Just one day."

* * *

><p>Rachel didn't sleep that night. She lay in bed, arms behind her head and ankles cross, and she thought about stuff. She thought about a lot of stuff. She thought about Quinn, mainly. She thought about their pink ornament. She thought about the box in her closet marked Q. She thought about Fred.<p>

She thought about the first time she got drunk and proposed, unabashedly. It made her giggle in bed, lying next to Janey.

And that made her want to vomit.

What was she doing thinking of Quinn, giggling at Quinn's memory, while lying in bed next to a woman who just proposed to her four hours before?

It was wrong. It was unfair to Janey. It was disgusting of Rachel.

She needed to sort her life out, once and for all.

So she crawled out of bed.

She crawled out of bed, padded across her bedroom, lightly closed the door and then plopped down on the couch. Her teeth took to her nails.

Could she take a leap in life? Could she choose to be happy for once?

And would Janey make her happy?

Janey did make her happy.

But what about Quinn?

And why was Quinn even still a factor? They hadn't spoken in a year and a half. They hadn't seen each other. They didn't even keep in touch.

Hell, she had no idea if Quinn was still in New York. She just didn't know.

Maybe she needed to know.

Maybe that was it.

And thinking about that, about finding out what Quinn was doing and where she was and how she was, that excited Rachel, if only to finally put the last nail in the coffin. She craved finality. She craved peace. She craved a steady heartbeat. Maybe if she got that, if she could find some sort of peace and let it go, maybe she could say yes to Janey and fall into her happiness.

She also needed advice. She needed help. She needed encouragement to be happy. She needed a push to take the leap.

She wished she had a mother for moments like these.

_She's your mother now, too_.

The words echoed over in her head.

Judy.

Yes, yes, that's exactly what she needed.

She couldn't talk to Quinn to find out details. She couldn't. The blonde made it clear she was done, it was over. And she simultaneously needed a mother's heart to pump into hers. Judy. She needed Judy. So she picked up the phone and she called her surrogate mother and her favorite old friend.

The phone rang six times before Rachel realized it was midnight.

And as she jerked towards clicking the End key, a raspy voice picked up the line. Her heart sank at the sound; it flooded the past over her. With that reaction, she realized she needed closure more than anything.

"Judy?"

"Who is this? It's midnight," she grumbled. Rachel gulped.

"It's Rachel."

Judy shot up in bed, eye mask fluttering off and mattress bouncing under Russell. She looked right at her snoring husband and then shuffled out of bed.

"Hang on, honey."

She stepped into her house slippers, grabbed her robe and walked downstairs before settling onto the sofa.

"You okay?"

"I'm okay," Rachel murmured. "I needed to talk to you."

"At midnight? You sure you're okay?"

"Yes, ma'am. I just, I lost track of time and dialed before I thought. Typical Berry, doing things before I think. I'm sorry for that."

"Never apologize for that, honey. What's going on? How's New York? I saw the reviews for your newest show. We keep a little scrapbook. It seems they love you."

"Who?"

"Everyone?" Judy laughed and snuggled further into the couch.

"Speaking of everyone, I called to ask about Quinn. How is she?"

Judy swallowed, quite unsure where the conversation was heading and what information she should readily divulge about her daughter. She never wanted to do harm to something that could be on the mend, but what if she was part of helping it be on the mend?

"She's okay. She's in New York still. She runs her bookstore- I mean, her shop- or whatever. I get so confused."

Rachel giggled, nodding fondly.

"She had a few friends come back in town. She's made a few new ones. She actually just started renovating her apartment out there. Who knew she had the skills, right?"

"That's what I was going to say," Rachel laughed, a bit impressed.

"Honey, you sure you're okay? It would be dishonest of me to say I don't find this call a little weird and almost troubling."

"I need advice about being strong in love, taking chances, chasing happiness. And you're, well, my only mother figure. I feel like I just want to take a chance and be okay, you know?"

Judy's heart melted.

"Anything, Rach. What do you need? What's in your head?"

"Did you ever have to take a leap with Papa- I mean, Russell?"

She smiled at the endearment- the almost endearment.

"Yes. He almost walked away, actually. He was headed off to the war as a sailor- ever handsome in white- and he about left without asking me to wait for him. He almost walked away and let me live a life without him. He wanted to give me that freedom. But instead, at the last minute, he ran up the dock where everyone was saying goodbye- where we'd already said goodbye- and he gripped my arm, spun me around and begged me, 'Say you'll be here when I get back. Please say you'll be here!'" Judy gasped.

"Wow," Rachel gushed. "What'd you say?"

"I thought about it. Did I want to say no, turn around and go about my life? Maybe find love elsewhere? Find new happiness after heartbreak? Or did I want to say yes and live an excruciating next couple of years wondering if he was alive, if he was still holding onto me like I was holding onto him."

"What'd you do?"

"Well I said I would wait, of course. I chose love."

"How did it feel?"

"Awful," she laughed. "It felt awful. But one day, one bright beautiful day, he walked up my front path, knocked on my door and changed my life," she remembered, smiling thinking about Rachel walking up to Quinn's front door and changing hers.

"Was it worth it?"

"Had you asked me back then before he returned, I would've said no. Ask me today, and I think you know the answer."

"And what if he'd never returned?"

"He did."

"And if he hadn't?" Rachel pushed. Judy grinned, ready to push Rachel over the edge and back into Quinn's arms.

"That's a chance you take on love, sweetheart. You have to leap for happiness. You have to march through currents, pound over obstacles, and find happiness. You take that chance."

She could take that chance.

She could march through the current, pound over the obstacles and find happiness. She could.

It's exactly what Janey was offering.

That sounded like heaven. That sounded like peace.

And that was Janey.

"Thank you, Judy."

"Go get her, Rach."

At that, Rachel disconnected, walked into her bedroom, and woke Janey up with a kiss. She parted her lips, slipped her tongue inside, buried the image of Quinn forever and muttered yes.

"Yes?"

"Yes, I'll marry you."


	47. Chapter 46 Three Weeks to Wedding

This chapter is one of my most favorite things I've ever written. Enjoy. XO Dylan

* * *

><p>Present Day - Three Weeks to Wedding<p>

_If we go home, we stay home. But if we leave, we get lost._

When a person faces the decision to fight for love and possible hurt your true love or let love go and see your true love be happy, what does a person choose? When does being selfish overrule being compassionate? And when does being spontaneous to disastrous equate to being passionate?

Quinn didn't know.

She didn't have any answers. And every day, she woke up and perched herself on the island in her small kitchen. She perched there in shorts and a tank top with unruly hair and an unrulier heart and she ate cereal out of a cup.

She ate cereal and she stared at the haunting wedding invitation taped to her fridge. And every morning, she asked herself the same questions.

And every morning, she failed to have answers.

After her failed answers, she went over plans in case she ever found those answers. She stared at the pale pink invitation with its hot yellow bow and she cocked her head, thoughts and ideas running over her.

She fed another spoonful of Special K into her mouth and she thought.

She could do like Brittany said; she could do like Taylor Swift. She could march up to the chapel, throw the doors open and wail. She would. She would wail so loud. _Don't do it! I object! Overruled!_

And Rachel, beautifully astounding Rachel, she would turn around in what would surely be a classically cut, yet ungodly white gown. She would turn around and she would gasp, arms wide, and run to Quinn.

That was the first plan the first time she perched on the island.

She wrote it down.

Option One: Taylor Swift her.

After which she hopped off the island, went to work and did nothing but think about Rachel. She thought about the one burning question that wouldn't leave her head: was possibly hurting Rachel, dreadfully hurting Rachel, worth the risk of her own heart's happiness?

Was it?

Day two came and with Cheerios this time.

She perched in a hoodie and baby blue underwear. She pulled her knees up to her chest, scooped spoonfuls into her mouth and stared at the grey lining around the edges of the invitation. They jumped every few millimeters, like the line down the middle of a road.

Maybe she would go to Rachel's next show. She could stand up in the middle of it, interrupt the show and call out to her: "Short Stack! Marry _me_!"

She wrote it down.

Option Two: Make scene at show, embarrass self, get girl.

She hopped off the counter, went to work and thought about Rachel. She found a new writer hell bent on publishing her backwards happy love stories. She liked starting at the happy and writing the build-up to when the couple first crossed paths. She said, "That's the real climax in life: the beginning."

It struck Quinn as quite interesting.

And on day three, sitting atop her island, she thought about their beginning. She thought about hauling Rachel up to her room and kissing her. And then she realized that wasn't her beginning. She scratched her sports bra clad back, shifted in her shorts and pondered. What exactly was their beginning?

Hmm…

Freshman year? Was it the first day? She didn't remember knowing Rachel in eighth grade. She didn't remember her in middle school. And she knew she would've remembered. Because freshman year, on the first day of class, she breezed through the parking lot, stormed into the school and prepared to reign.

And then she heard that voice.

It was undeniable talent. It was undeniable talent she didn't have.

She heard that voice soaring through the halls and pounding into her ears and she couldn't take it. It screamed attention. It screamed quality. It screamed stardom. She turned on her heel, stomped down the hall and threw open the auditorium doors.

And then she froze.

She froze because the most interestingly adorable and downright gorgeous girl stared back at her, eyes wide with fright, and yet she never missed a note. She never missed a beat. She never flinched.

And the fact that she didn't flinch told Quinn half of what she needed to know. That voice told her the other half, the scarier half. Throw her face, her adorable face, on top of that and in an instant, Quinn had her worst enemy.

This girl could steal her light. This girl could steal her thunder.

Her heart thudded in her chest- with what Quinn thought was anger at the time. Turns out it was love at first sight and sound. She hated her all the while adoring her. She didn't realize what that felt like until she ripped the hate off of it and let the feelings shine through.

And boy did they shine.

Thinking of that day, their first day, she came up with another one.

Option Humility: Dress up like a nun and sing to her.

She wrote it down, smirked, and fixed her list back to the fridge right beside the invitation, the invitation with its pink roses in the corners.

She went to work after that. She went to work and she met with Sarah about her backwards stories. She reread some of Arna's "Love Found" entries and remembered her own "Love Lost" entry. She'd made Arna write her story. And at that point, she _was_ love lost. Technically she still was. She knew that. It still haunted her. She had been love unseen at fourteen. And she was love lost at twenty, maybe even before.

Would she ever be love found? Was she love found at fifteen only to be love lost again? Maybe she was always meant to be love lost and twenty year old Quinn was the smartest of them all when she walked away.

She guessed that would make seventeen year old Quinn smart, too.

She grimaced.

And she thought about it a lot.

When she woke the next day, she sat on her island and she tossed Kix at the invitation from her milk-less bowl. She forgot to grocery shop. She forgot to do a lot of things while lost in the mindset of the "Get Rachel Berry Back" plan brainstorming.

So she sat there, tossing Kix into her mouth and tossing Kix at the invitation, the invitation that had Rachel Berry scrawled in such stunning calligraphy that it made her heart smile.

And just below it, Janey Jansen scribbled in such beautiful calligraphy that it made her want to puke. She chunked another Kix at it and growled.

What was her plan? What would be her plan should she need it?

She could, she could find Rachel's address, storm over to her apartment and throw Janey off the roof. Rachel would have no choice but to marry her then.

She wrote it down.

Option Possible Jail Time: Murder Janey, win by default.

And then she went to work.

That evening, she decided stroll through the city. Everything slowly spawned Christmas decorations and chills moved in, bringing the romance right along with it. She thought about their first Thanksgiving in the city together. It was a bad, confusing period for them. They made tofurkey and cranberry sauce and Quinn picked up a turkey sub from the shop down the street. They walked through the park, they walked the Brooklyn Bridge, they walked Broadway, and they failed to say a word.

She wished she'd had the guts to speak back then. She wished she'd had the balls. Would it have fixed everything? Would it have given her two feet to stand on? She didn't know. She just remembered them unhappy. She remembered Rachel losing weight. She remembered the sex without feelings. She'd taken Rachel so many places and so roughly, just trying to dig inside her and curl up amongst the warmth.

But she never got there. She just fell empty. She fell empty and she fell beside Rachel in bed, gasping and looking into those eyes like black holes. They were empty just like her.

She shook her head out at the memories. She didn't like thinking about sad Rachel. She didn't like thinking about zombie Rachel. She'd created her.

Would she recreate her if she stepped back into her life? Would she wrench her out of hiding if she stepped up and ruined her wedding only days before?

Or would she step up and save her?

Was she still zombie Rachel under a façade of happiness?

Quinn wanted to believe she was. Quinn wanted to believe she still loved her. She wanted to believe it was her heart that stayed in her hands all these years when she'd left it with her at fifteen, at seventeen, at twenty, at twenty-two, and now. She fell asleep mulling over those thoughts.

When she woke the next morning, she grabbed a grapefruit and perched on her island. The invitation looked heavier that day, day five or so. Six? She didn't know.

She pulled her legs up under Leroy's old Ohio State t-shirt, crossed them in her lap and stared at the heavy paper on her fridge.

What would she do? What would impress Rachel?

Should she be grand or should she be subtle?

Could she stalk out her hangouts, check the paper for where she was dress shopping, flower shopping, and ballroom shopping? Could she spot her on the street, walk up to her and just flat speak?

"I love you now more than ever," she whispered, seeing how it felt.

She shook her head and breathed, the red inner lining of the invitation mocking her heart.

"I can't live without you," she stated firmly, back straightening and thrusting the grapefruit into the air. See? A-ha! I can't live without you!

She slumped and sighed.

Retarded.

What would she say? God, what would she say?

"Choose me," she muttered, eyes falling to her fruit. Choose her and make her the happiest girl alive. Choose her and make life complete again. Choose her and defrost thine heart.

She smiled sweetly.

And then she hopped off the island, grabbed her pen and scribbled on her list: Option Whatever: _Choose me._

She didn't go to work that day. Statom met with Sarah and frankly, she needed more of New York. She told herself it wasn't because she wanted to run into Rachel, but really, it was. She wanted to run into her so badly. She wanted to see the surprise interruption to get the honest reaction.

Would Rachel stutter?

Would she blush?

Would she smile like she did when she was sixteen and Quinn took her clothes off for the first time?

Or would she be fine?

Would she stand tall like Rachel Berry Superstar Being and be completely and utterly unaffected?

It would break Quinn's heart all over again.

But she walked the city anyway. She walked it and she visited Rachel's favorite restaurant to eat some of her favorite meals. She felt close to her that way. She felt… inside the loop. She was so far outside Rachel's loop that she could've been referred to as an acquaintance and it wouldn't have been shocking.

Quinn as an acquaintance; Ha, the town of Lima would scream in horror. Part two of the golden couple was just an acquaintance now? No!

Yes.

The next morning, she woke up and failed to find a bra. She was falling apart at the seams as her brain fell apart on its axis. She flopped herself on the island, stomach down, knees bent and feet in the air.

And she stared at it with her chin in her hands and her breasts flying free. What should she do? What was the right answer and who had it? She was twenty-four and practically a baby. She didn't know how to stop a wedding. She didn't know how to proclaim love and win a girl back from the brink and right a wrong so many years in the making.

She just didn't know.

And the last thing she wanted was to hurt Rachel in the process.

If she was… If she was happy, god forbid, it killed Quinn to think she could ruin it. She could walk back in, crack her steady heart in half and wreck her all over again. Maybe her mom was right. Maybe she made her choice and was happy. And it wasn't Quinn.

So would it be worth it to break her? Would it be worth it to confuse her? Would it be worth it?

_Was_ it worth it?

She reached across the way, ripped the invitation off the fridge and sat it on the island in front of her. And then she wrote that down: Is it worth it?

She wrote it right on top of Rachel Berry, so beautifully written in calligraphy. She laid it back down and stared, yet again.

_Is it worth it?_ screamed back in her scribbled prose.

Is it worth breaking Rachel one last time?

Is it?

And man, how would she do it if it was?

She grabbed the invite, reached across the gap and fixed it back to the fridge. And then she grabbed her list. And she added another one.

Option Inevitable: Cut your heart open and let it bleed.

If she was going to hurt Rachel by risking this, she would do it right. She would do it to the edge of the cliff, to the tip of the clouds, to the depth of the ocean. She would cut her heart open and she would set it all free.

If it was worth it…


	48. Chapter 47 Two Weeks to Wedding

Looks like is done being a petulant child! These were supposed to go up last night and instead we all had a pity party on tumblr. :) So here are three more chapters to pull us closer to the end!

You'll get three/four more later today.

Also, your reviews, remarks, comments, expellings of emotion into my PM, ask, and the comment feed are just wonderful. I love the long, heart wrenching remarks, the short little favorite line remarks, and everything in between- all of it. I'm glad you guys are right there with Bee and Short Stack on the edge of their seats!

XO DYLAN

* * *

><p>Two Weeks to Wedding<p>

_Just trace your tracks and you'll find home. We didn't leave tracks._

"Hey, Jay?" she hollered into the other room, boxes abounding, packing tape screeching and cleaner assaulting her senses.

"Hmm?"

"Are we thinking light or dark for the bedroom at the new place?"

"Light, right?"

"That's what I'm thinking," she muttered, light baby blue sheets in one hand and her dark red sheets in the other. She nodded, tossed the red sheets into the storage box and the blue sheets into the bedroom box.

And then, she went back to her closet. She had so much to pack and with so little time. The wedding was fast approaching, which also meant moving day was fast approaching. She'd purchased her first home in the city. It was a humble loft a few streets north. She liked it. It made her feel a bit quaint. It made her feel homey. She was excited to start their life there, together, once they married.

She officially finished planning their wedding four hours ago. Now, god rest her soul, all she had to do was pack and wait. She had to pack and she had to wait and then she had to walk down the aisle. It was easy as that.

Then she would be married, living in her very own loft in New York City and on her way to the tv or the movies or the next big show on Broadway.

It was exactly as she hoped.

And as she stepped back into her closet to dig through boxes and repack them for storage and keep, she fell upon a very specific box she'd forgotten. The big, black Q scribbled on the side stopped her heart.

And she hated that it still stopped her heart.

She huffed and took a step back, hands smacking to her hips and scowl spreading across her face. Damn that stupid blonde for having so much damn control of her stupid damn heart.

Damn!

Stupid, stupid, damn girl!

She closed her eyes, took a deep breath, retied her messy ponytail and stepped forward. She could do it. She could open it. No big deal. Right?

"Hey, where's-"

Rachel lurched back and clutched at her chest.

"Don't scare me like that!" she gasped. Janey looked behind her, then slowly around the room, eyes wide and a bit confused.

"I just said, 'hey where's.'"

"You're all Creepy McCreeperson right now."

"You're insane."

"I know this," she chided. "No need to remind the crazy that they are crazy. We are all well aware. All our personalities are well aware."

Janey grinned, set her box down and walked into the room.

"Babe, you okay?"

"Fine."

"It's okay to be nervous."

"I'm not nervous," she laughed, a bit too hard. Janey gave her another smile and stepped into her, arms lacing around her from behind and chin falling to her tiny shoulder.

"Two weeks. Two weeks and it's all over, okay?"

What would be over, though?  
>And god dammit, why was that her reflex response to that?<p>

She hated Quinn. She absolutely _hated_ Quinn.

All she fucking wanted was to be happy!

"I know," she murmured and leaned back into Janey. Those lips found her neck and she sighed. "I'm sweaty, Jay."

"Mm, I know," she purred and slipped her hands over Rachel's abs to run them south to her thighs.

"Really sweaty."

"The more the better."

"I, I need to finish this. The mover comes later for the first load," she excused, squirmed out of her grasp and averted her eyes.

Janey raked over her. She watched her fail to look back, fail to stop moving. She went straight from her arms to a box and hastily packed. What did that mean? Nerves. She would chalk it up to nerves because she couldn't handle much more than that. She sighed, let it roll off her back and smiled.

"I'll go get us coffee. How about that?"

Rachel relaxed instantly.

"That sounds perfect. Thank you. Thank you so much for just, for being great," she smiled. "I'm sorry."

"For what?"

Rachel balked. What was she sorry for?

"I don't even know, just felt like saying it."

It was the answer Janey didn't want. It was the answer that said there was more beneath the surface that she needed to dig out. But did she want to dig it out? And did it have to do with that fucking blonde? She just couldn't go away, could she? Why couldn't she go away?

"I'll be back in a bit," she muttered, forced a smile, grabbed her keys and left. Rachel watched the door shut behind her before she shot to her feet, craned to the top shelf of the closet and wrenched the Q box down.

She spun around, set it on the bed and sliced the boxing tape down the middle with her handy-dandy safety-first pocket knife. She smiled at it as she set it down; Daddy would be proud.

The lid flaps fluttered back and the smell of memories wafted over her.

She leaned forward with one eye closed and peaked into the box.

Don't hurt, don't hurt, don't hurt.

She craned further and slowly, one by one, things came into view.

And with each new thing, the view smothered her further.

One: Wuthering Heights. It vice gripped her heart.

Two: the Chinchillin' t-shirt. It squeezed tighter.

Three: a coffee table book on Kate Hepburn. It took the vice and twisted.

Four: the green beanie. Her heart bulged at its edges.

Five: the panties from Madrid. Oh god. That's right. She'd kept them.

Six: a red solo cup with 'first drunken proposal' scribbled on the side.

It wrenched her heart.

Seven: a bright pink Christmas ornament.

And then it sliced it open.

She gasped, controlled her sobs and slammed the lids shut. She lunged for the packing tape, screeched it across the top, the side, diagonal across the top, again on the side, opposite diagonal across the top, and again on the side.

And then she collapsed to the floor and leaned back against their bed.

Their bed; she and Janey's bed. God, what was she doing?

She gasped for air. And then again. And again, because jesus it wasn't coming to her. Where was the air?

Breathe, Rachel. Breathe.

But nothing.

Fuck, she was having a panic attack. She crawled across the room, gripped the phone and hit speed dial one. It rang and rang and rang as she gasped, hand over her heart and eyes clenched tight.

Breathe.

"Hello?"

"Dad?"

"Rach?"

"Dad, I can't breathe," she gasped.

"Baby, what the- Jesus! Hear my breaths, hear them. You hear them? In and out. Slowly. Now, in…" he breathed and she followed. "And now out…"

In and then out.

"In and then out."

In and then out.

He breathed over and over again.

And she followed. Slowly, he brought her back to normal and blood rushed back to her brain.

God, was she seventeen again? She was a fucking adult.

"Sorry," she whispered, taking a few last deep breaths.

"Baby girl, you alright? What happened?"

"How honest do you want me to be?"

"That's a scary question. We're always honest in this family. It must be bad. What did you do? Preface it for me if it's a lot. I don't need higher blood pressure."

"I opened an old box of Quinn's."

"It's déjà vu all over again," he sighed. Her head collapsed in her hands with embarrassment and shame.

"I know, I know."

"Baby girl, you get married in two weeks."

"I know, _I know_."

"And I'm going to say something you might not want to hear."

She sat up.

"Go on."

"I'm Team Quinn."

"_Dad_."

"I am. I'm sorry. I am," he chuckled.

"There are no teams," she muttered. "There isn't a choice here!"

"There's always a choice."

"It's not mine. I made a choice when I reached out two years ago. She failed to return it. She did. She made her choice then and so I moved on. And I'm happy, Dad. I'm actually happy."

"Says the girl who just called me having a panic attack because she opened her ex-girlfriend's box of 'stuff' and stuff," he chided.

"Dad."

"You keep saying that."

"Because you're being ridiculous."

"No, because you have no retort otherwise. You know I'm right. And you know what you need to do."

"Which is?"

"Settle it. Settle it fast."

"I don't know how. I've tried. I don't know how to make it go away."

"Figure it out. Maybe you should find out what Quinn wants."

"Quinn doesn't exist in this scenario. I haven't seen her or spoken to her in almost two years."

"That doesn't mean anything, baby. The heart has no clock."

"Sure it does. The heart clock made dealing with Daddy easier. The heart clock suffocated my relationship with Quinn. The heart clock made me see that happiness comes in multiple shapes and sizes."

"You know what that last one translates to?"

"What?" she groaned.

"Settling."

"I'm not settling. I'm happy. I love her. I just need Quinn to disappear from my head and, and, and from my damn closet."

"So seek her out to make her disappear," he encouraged, ruffling a few papers. "250 8th Avenue."

"What is that?"

"Statom-Fabray Books."

Oh yeah.

Shit.

Shit, shit, shit.

* * *

><p>Seeking Quinn out and burying the hatchet of history, or deciding once and for all, was exactly what Rachel planned to do the next day. She woke up rejuvenated. She woke up in Janey's arms. She woke up smiling.<p>

And none of that because of Quinn.

She needed it settled for good. She needed to see her. Or she needed to talk to her. Something. She just needed closure and assurance and finality. It was time to ride the horse or get off.

Or something.

Wait, how did that go?

Anyway, she took her wakening zest, pranced through her shower and then took to 8th Avenue. She didn't know what she would find. She didn't even know what she was looking for. She just knew she had to go. She knew she had to settle her heart.

She half expected, if she was being honest with herself, to see the blonde, feel her heart leap to her throat, and then kiss her.

But Rachel was trying to push that thought away. A lot needed to be said before she was going to be doing any kissing. And god, why was she even thinking about kissing her? It was wrong, so wrong.

But right?

No. They were done. And this was closure. She needed closure.

She padded down eighth, her heart racing with nerves and fear, and walked up to the red awning above long glass windows. In white crusted letters, Statom-Fabray Books displayed over them. And below_, We give you a voice to speak your passion_, shined in beautiful white script. She smiled.

Quinn had certainly found her passion.

She stepped back, took a deep breath and pushed through the door. It jingled just like it jingled in Madrid. The sound pissed her off instantly, ripping the smile from her face. And she took that memory and held it tight. It was a reminder of what they had been and what she never wanted to be again.

Her eyes fell over a quaint office. Framed covers hung to the right in poster size wooden frames. Deep mahogany shelves lined the left wall and a free standing shelf stood just to her right. She stepped further inside, turning back around to the main window to take in the table display of "hot" books.

Lady Arna's trilogy was present upon three proud stands to any and everyone who strolled by. She reached out and ran a hand over the spines. To see them in form, book form, and know Quinn created them, it was… it was… she didn't know.

It was _beautiful_.

And she found herself proud.

She found herself proud and bitter. Quinn sacrificed her for all of this. This was what bred from their ending. This was what bred from their demise. She could barely breathe standing there with it surrounding her and reminding her and sucking her into its hole.

"Can I help you?"

She whipped around and her eyes fell on the most handsome elderly man she'd ever seen. He chomped on a toothpick, flicked his floppy bangs out of his face and smiled. His glass blue eyes lit up.

"Wow, you're gorgeous," she deadpanned.

He erupted in laughter, shifted his weight and blushed.

"You're forward."

"You are just classically perfect," she gushed.

"Thank you," he smiled. "What can I do for you?"

"Well, I'm looking for Ms. Fabray. Quinn."

"Is she expecting you?"

"God no," she choked on reflex.

"You a writer?"

"God no to that, too. My name is Rachel Berry. Are you Statom?"

"In the flesh. _The_ Rachel Berry?" he pondered, eyes narrowing. She grinned her celebrity smile and curtsied.

"Of Broadway, yes sir. Yours truly."

"No," he laughed. "I mean the Rachel Berry of _Quinn and Rachel."_

She gulped, her smiling falling… and falling… and falling. She hadn't been Quinn and Rachel in years. It felt… weird and archaic and painful.

"Yes. That Rachel, too, albeit less enthusiastically."

"Interesting. Quinn won't be in today. You can catch her at home, though," he offered and plopped down in the wooden, swiveling desk chair.

Right, that did not help. She had no idea where Quinn lived.

"Okay, well. Thank you anyway," she sighed and went to leave.

"You're a bit famous, you know," he called and she turned back with an eye roll.

"Clearly I'm famous," she groaned.

He laughed. "No, darling. You're famous at Statom and with Statom's readers and Arna's readers."

"Excuse me?"

"You're one of her stories."

"I don't understand. She writes fiction, I thought."

"True to a point. She actually writes what she sees and then she embellishes a bit. Sometimes, but not all times."

"How does that have anything to do with me? I never met Arna."

"She wrote Quinn."

"I'm sorry?"

"Quinn has a story in her first book. And you're it."

"I don't understand."

"Child, child, child, you are _dense_," he laughed, stood up and walked to the table of books beside her. He reached down, grabbed "Love Lost" and placed it in her hand. "You're "Train Track", my dear. Pretty cool, right?"

Not at all.

"Train track?"

"That's the title of the story. You can find it in there. And you can have that copy, no worries."

"I can pay you for it."

"We're not a bookstore," he muttered.

And with a frown, a jingle, and then a grimace, she left.

* * *

><p>Sitting in her living room, she looked at "Love Lost" sitting on the opposite side of the couch. It sat there and stared at her. The fact that she was in "Love Lost" anyway instead of "Love Found" told her enough. She didn't need to read the story.<p>

But she did.

She did need to read it.

And so she crawled her way across the couch, opened the book and dug through it. She landed on their story and read. Their names had been changed, but it was more a less a dramatic, fantastically creative and colorful retelling of their love, their loss, and-

_And how sometimes love wasn't enough._

She backed her eyes up and reread.

_Sometimes love wasn't enough. Dear April realized that as sure as rain falling from the sky. In the depths of her soul and the tip of her fingertips, she realized that. She was meant to fall for Gretchen, love her, and then let her go. It was as engrained in her as her beauty mark, just as the color of her eyes, just as the sway of her walk. Fore Gretchen was bigger, she was a bird, she was a skyscraper. She flew, she towered, and she soared. And April loved to watch her go. She watched her go and she let her go. There wasn't a leash long enough, a ladder tall enough. It was exactly as life was to be all along. And finally, April could smile as she went._

She watched her go and she let her go. It was exactly as life was to be all along. She closed the book; she didn't need to read anymore. It told her everything the unanswered text told her two years ago. It took the hammer from her hands, grabbed the last nail, and smashed it into the coffin.

It was done.

It was over.

And when the door opened up and Janey walked in, smile on her face, pep in her step and coffee in her hand, Rachel stood.

She stood.

And she shook the weight off.

And she crossed the floor.

And she kissed her.

She kissed her, she laid her down, and she made love to her.

Because finally, once and for all, she could say, "Quinn who?"

And she could mean it.


	49. Chapter 48 FortyEight Hours to Wedding

HERE WE GO! HERE WE GO!

* * *

><p><strong>Forty-Eight Hours to Wedding<strong>

**_It's our luck that the radiator would blow now, four blocks from home._**

Hurt the one you love by chance or gain everything you ever wanted?

Hurt the one you love by chance or gain _everything_ you ever wanted?

"Palo, speak."

"I don't know!"

"I need answers!"

"You have them!"

"Written in invisible ink on a black wall in the middle of a dark room in the basement of like, like, a god damn bowling alley!" Quinn shrieked, picking up her pace. She burned tracks into the living room carpet.

Back and forth, back and forth.

"You're kinda getting down to the wire," he muttered.

She whirled around and gawked.

"You don't think I know that?"

"And you only have one sock on."

She looked down. What do you know? She did only have one sock on.

"My foot was cold."

"I'm sure."

"Help me!"

"I have given you all the information I can give you. It's right there!" he groaned, hauled himself off the couch and walked to the whiteboard. Um, the whiteboard Quinn purchased when her head turned to mush on day fifteen atop her kitchen island. The day her eyes twitched, her heart pounded, and her bottom was without underwear.

It was time to get a whiteboard. It was definitely time.

She took Palo's seat on her fluffy tan couch, plopped her feet up on her mahogany coffee table and slumped back, eyes peeling over options one through fifty-two scribbled across the board.

They all surrounded the one huge question: Is it worth it?

"I can't break her, Pal," she muttered. "I can't do it again. I won't be able to live with myself."

"Will you be able to live with yourself if you don't do _anything_?"

"I'd be devastated, but at least _she_ wouldn't be."

"Who's to say she isn't?"

"Who's to say she is?" she countered, bounced the dry erase marker between her hands and scoffed yet again. All she did was scoff, pace, and write on her magic board.

Yet no answers came. None of it made sense.

Rachel's heart belonged to her. It did. And yet, she was getting married.

And that's when it hit her.

It ALL fucking hit her.

She was getting married.

Oh my god.

"What's that face for?" Palo questioned.

"She sent me an invitation."

"Huh?"

"Rachel, she sent me an invitation. She expected to see me at her wedding. She expected to see me and to be okay. She _invited_ me, Palo."

It hit her like an oncoming train. She stared at that invitation for two weeks straight and it never once hit her. Quinn showing up wouldn't matter; she'd been invited. Rachel expected to see her. Rachel wanted to see her, there at her wedding, to Janey.

"I can't believe I didn't see it."

"See what?"

"She invited me. She has no problem seeing me. She planned to see me!"

"What's your point?"

"I've been sitting here thinking I'm going to throw her for a loop by showing up! But I'm not; I'm invited! She knows I'm coming and yet, still nothing. She's not worried! She's not torn! She's still getting married. She's-"

"She's not over it. Don't say it."

"You don't know that," Quinn sighed and slumped further into the couch. It sure sounded like Rachel was over it from her point of view. And by sending Quinn an invitation, she was broadcasting it.

It was over.

"It's over," she whispered, more to herself and her ears than anyone else.

"What- but- if-"

She put up a hand as her heart evaporated to pieces.

"It's over."

* * *

><p>Two hours later, when Quinn was able to walk and the tears painting the front of her shirt had dried, she padded to the kitchen, ripped the invitation off the fridge and tossed it in the trash.<p>

And then she opened the fridge to grab the only liquid she wanted to put anywhere near her mouth: tequila or sangria or rum?

"Pick one, two, or three," she groaned to the living room.

"Two."

"Perfect," she grumbled, grabbed the sangria and slammed the freezer shut. Because frankly, if it was truly over, she didn't want to feel it.

* * *

><p>"But then, then, we crawled out her window, jogged through the muddy, rain destroyed front yard and jumped into her car. The windows fogged instantly, like some stupid movie. But really, it was just so god-forsaken hot," she drawled, lulled her bobble head left and smiled at Palo. He grinned dreamily.<p>

They'd been that way for thirteen hours. Drunk and talking and reminiscing, it lasted all night and into the morning.

"What happened next?"

"She turned, leaned back against the door- and man the rain just pounded down overhead- and she said, 'I want you to go down on me.'"

"Vulgar for a sixteen year old!"

"No, no. Rachel used the right words all the time. She said what she thought. She said it plainly and bluntly," she giggled. "And man I loved that about her."

"Did you do it?"

"Of course I did it."

"Right there in her car?"

"For the first time ever," she blushed. "I mean, I'd dabbled, you know. We were horny kids who needed to touch each other every second of every day, but never fully. She did it on my birthday for the first time a few weeks before. Actually, she did it in my backyard."

"So she took you in the back and you took her in the front?"

"I'm sure there's irony in there somewhere," she smirked and tipped the bottle of sangria to her lips. She felt her mascara plastered over her crusty cheeks. She felt her damp shirt. She felt her insides crying and something in her found comfort replenishing the well with sangria.

Her tears would run out eventually. And she'd be left with nothing.

Rachel would get married.

And Quinn would do what she was doing now; she would live in their memory. She would keep her pictures. She would retell their stories. She would touch herself to the vivid images of Rachel's brow sweating, her chest panting, and her legs slowly falling apart.

Mmmm.

God, she needed to stop with the sangria.

She slammed the bottle on the table and two knocks slammed down on the front door.

They jolted back, ripped their shocked eyes to each other and then Quinn bounded over to the door before yanking it open.

"Fabray!"

She shot to attention.

"Puck?"

"You look like shit!"

"I feel like shit. What are you doing here?" she gasped. Everything in her wanted the words, "She isn't getting married," to come falling out of his mouth.

But they didn't.

"I'm here to light a fire under your ass," he barked, stepped out of the rain and off her front stoop. He slammed the door behind them and whipped off his slicker.

"Light a fire under me? For what?"

"What do you mean _for what_?"

"I mean for what?" she snapped.

"Quinn, she's not happy. She's not. And I know I'm her best man of honor or whatever the hell she's calling me, but it's not right. She's not happy."

"She_ is_ happy."

"Don't argue with me! You haven't been there for two years and don't even get me _started_ on that!"

"She didn't answer my-"

And yet again, a knock pounded on the door. They froze, looking around. Quinn looked at herself, then Palo, and then Puck, and then door. Who could that be?

She walked over, wrenched it open and a frazzled Judy stared back.

"Mom!"

"Quinnie, honey, I think I messed up," she quivered. What the hell was going on? Quinn reached out, pulled her mom inside and shut the door. Judy shrunk her umbrella up and sat it in the corner before turning around, all eyes on her.

Quinn looked from her mom to Puck to Palo, who still looked confused as hell, and then back to her mom. The silence was deafening.

"Okay, someone speak!"

"I, I," Judy stuttered. "I think I convinced her to marry Janey."

Quinn gasped.

"You did what?"

"Inadvertently, honey! That's, that's the key word," Judy defended, hands in the air and fear jumping across her features.

"Explain," Quinn growled and ushered her to the couch. She grabbed the bottle of sangria, poured her a drink and sat down in front of her.

"I don't drink, you know that."

"You may tonight. Explain."

Judy trembled, steadied her hands and tried to remember.

"She called me, like six months ago. It was really late and I was out of it and she asked me all sorts of things."

"_What_ kind of things did she ask you?"

"Um, she was asking about courage and, and love. And taking risks."

"What do you mean taking risks?"

"Like she was pondering taking a big one! So I told her the story of Russ and I and how we powered through to find happiness. And she seemed to accept it really, really well. She seemed calmed and like I'd helped."

"I don't get it."

"She took my advice and she went to _Janey_."

Quinn's heart erupted and her jaw fell.

"You gave her what she needed to get the courage up to get married?"

"I thought she was going to take that courage and come to you!"

"Clearly!"

"I, I realized it when you said she was getting married. I did. I knew I'd helped by accident. And I'm so sorry, honey," she wept. Puck stepped forward, placed a comforting hand on her shoulder, and inwardly bemoaned the mess.

"Mom, it's not your fault."

"It is. I practically convinced her! And I realized it even more when I didn't get invited. She knows what happened in that phone call and she knows my part. I, I'm so sorry."

"This is such a disaster," Puck moaned. "Why couldn't you have just written her back?" he groaned at Quinn. "Would've saved us all this big ass fucking month of drama."

Quinn shot to her feet.

"What did you say?"

"Don't get angry at me. It's your own damn fault! Could you have for once not walked away and instead got the girl?"

"No, no. I'm not angry! What did you say before that?"

"Right, you don't seem angry at all," he huffed. She lunged forward, gripped his ear lobe and growled.

"What did you _say_ about writing her back?"

"Some stupid text message," he groaned. "Let me go!"

She dropped his ear, clutched her heart and stepped back.

"Oh, my god."

"What?" he gaped, shocked eyes on her horrified ones.

"She thinks I didn't write her back?"

"You didn't."

"Yes, she did!" Judy shrieked and hit her feet. Palo's eyes darted around and he shot to his feet as well.

"You wrote her back?" Puck asked, eyes narrowing and confusion deepening by the ever loving second.

"Of course I wrote her back! I broke open my heart and spilled my guts!"

"She never got it."

"Technology," Judy groaned. "You kids these days. This is why we walked down the street and onto front porches!"

"There's no way. There's no way technology stole it. She got it," Quinn fought. "She got it!"

"No, she didn't, Q. She didn't. We talked about it three or so weeks ago. We sat on her couch and _she_ brought it up."

"What did she say?" Quinn gasped. "She talked about me?"

"She talks about you all the time. She thinks about you all the time. She's convinced herself that Janey can provide some sort of secondary happiness and she's comfortable in that."

"That's not love!" Judy groaned.

"What else did she say?"

"Um, god what else," Puck mumbled, trying to remember every detail. "She said she was moving into her new place and this thing hit her, this thing you said when you guys broke up in high school. About some dude at Juilliard."

"Vanessa."

"There's a dude named Vanessa?" Palo interjected.

"She's a she," Judy added.

"Right, her," Puck said. "She said you mentioned her in the break up and like it was, like it was some big deal behind your feelings or something. I don't remember exactly what she said. But she said she remembered it out of the blue and needed to know what you meant."

"Why?"

"She needed one last try."

"Try?"

"For you guys," Puck sighed. "She needed one last try for you guys."

"And she never got my response," Quinn whimpered and her face scrunched up thinking of Rachel waiting for a text, waiting for another chance, waiting for Quinn to open up and prove herself, only to have it not come.

No wonder she moved on.

No _fucking wonder_ she moved on.

"Honey?"

"I'm gonna be sick," she grunted and curled into the couch. Puck looked to Judy and Palo looked to Puck. And Judy, Judy stared at her miss-communication wrecked daughter.

"What'd it say?" Palo whispered to Judy as Quinn groaned into the couch.

"Everything."

Quinn flopped to her back and her legs swung off the arm rest.

"What's everything?" Puck jumped in. "What did you say to her?"

"Everything I could think of. I opened up and drained myself," Quinn muttered, hand over her face and thoughts pounding through her head. What did this mean? She'd never gotten it and that changed everything. But how?

"What's _everything_?" the boys demanded.

"It's in my phone. I saved it. I saved it all these years because it reminded me that I tried. I tried _once_ and I failed," she growled, ripped it out of her pocket, pulled up the text to read.

She cleared her throat, wiped a few stray tears and focused.

"_In an effort to open my heart and head, for one last try at you, here goes: She was the door girl at Juilliard for your tryouts. She ripped me apart and stomped on our love. She convinced me you were more than me. She convinced me you were bigger than me, meant for more than me. She had stats, experience and a scowl that terrified me- I was 17. So, wrongly, I listened. My head couldn't stop listening. All I saw was you walking away and it broke my heart. And then Leroy died and I saw it all over again. I saw loss, the loss of you. And in that I lost myself. But I want to find that girl again. I want to find that girl who knew nothing but that love was enough. I want to find her. I want to fight to find her for you. Would you want her back? Would you, Rach? Please say you would._"

She tossed her phone on her chest and pinched her eyes shut.

Silence filled the room as jaws gaped.

And it was the loudest sound she'd ever heard.

"Someone speak, please," she sighed into her arm.

"You have to go after her!" they erupted.

She jolted, rolled to her side and gawked at them.

"She gets married tomorrow."

"So then go tonight!" her mother shouted. "Enough missing texts, disguised conversations and lack of communication! Go to her, have it out and fix it! Give it a chance! _Make_ her choose."

"What if she's happy and I only wreck her?"

"She's not happy," Puck jumped in. "She's not. She tried to say she was in love with Janey and she couldn't even say the words, Q!"

Quinn's insides flamed. She rolled her body off the couch, hit her knees and awkwardly crawled to her feet.

"Really?"

"Yes!"

"What hotel is she at?" Quinn spat.

Judy clapped and Palo cheered.

"Wait, wait, wait," Puck shouted over them. "Look at you, Q. You look like shit. Go shower, sober up and we'll go over there tonight. They're not going to let you in without a little finesse."

"Why? I'm invited!"

"I don't mean to the wedding. I mean to her floor and her room. There's a level of security for things like this," he assured. "But we can get in. I'm wedding party. We can get in."

She shrieked with joy, jumped into his arms for a bear hug and then jumped back out.

"I'm gonna start getting ready!"

"I'm coming, too!" Judy wailed.

"Same!" Palo clapped.

And Puck grimaced as Quinn laughed, a little too near his nose.

"Okay, okay. Nap, shower, and _tooth brush_, Christ, you alcoholic," he moaned and stepped away from her.

"Sorry," she giggled, kissed Judy's cheek and pranced into her bedroom.

She got halfway in before another thought hit her like a falling piano. She stopped mid tracks, shoulders slumping and chest rocketing out with anger. She back pedaled out of her room slowly and her wide eyes fell over her guests.

"What?" Judy said.

"Puck…" Quinn murmured, a thousand thoughts running through her head. It had to be. It _had_ to be.

"What is it?" he asked.

"You said she and Janey were moving in."

"To their new place?"

"Wait, what? They have a _new_ place?" Quinn gasped.

"Oh. You didn't know that?" he cringed. "Rachel bought a place in the city."

"And she's moving into it with her?"

"Yeah." Oh, there was the puke again. She clapped a hand over her mouth and brought her eyes back to his. If she wrecked Rachel, she was going to wreck her good.

"I'm not talking about the… new… place," she grimaced. "I'm talking about back then. Moving day, you said. She sent the text on moving day."

"Yeah, why?"

"That means Janey was there," Quinn said. It had to be. It _had_ to be.

Slowly the implications flooded over her mother and two friends. Their jaws fell, their eyes swelled and their cheeks flushed.

"That bitch!" Palo spat.

Oh, yes. That _bitch_.

That bitch had a lot of fucking nerve and now Quinn was definitely going to march over there and punch her in her red fucking head and then stab her with her red fucking porn star pump!

And _then _she was going to get her girl.


	50. Chapter 49 Night Before the Wedding

**Night Before the Wedding**

**_We can walk home, right? I think there are bears. You joke!_**

Tires screeched beneath them and Quinn slammed forward, gripped the Oh Shit Bar and shot daggers to her left for the fifteenth time.

"Mother!"

"I'm sorry! I'm not used to driving in an action movie!"

"Mom," she calmly stated. "This is not an action movie and you do not need to drive us through New York City on two wheels. Slow down! We do not have a deadline!"

"I feel nauseated," Palo groaned from the back and Judy snuck worried eyes at him through the rearview.

"Sorry, dear."

"Accepted," he grimaced and gripped his stomach. Judy brought her eyes back to the red light and shook out her arms. She was driving like a damn racecar driver. Quinn snickered and darted anxious eyes at that twitchy foot.

"Easy does it, Mom. Easy does it."

"My heart's just racing."

"Imagine mine," Quinn chuckled. "Which reminds me: um, what do I say to Rachel?"

"Everything," Puck laughed. "Just keep talking until she hits you or kisses you."

Quinn whirled around in the front seat.

"You think she'd hit me?"

"No. No, she's not going to hit you, Q."

"Really?"

"Maybe," he muttered. Rachel could possibly, very easily hit Quinn. After all, he knew she still loved her, but shit, she was getting married _tomorrow_. Puck decided to ignore that part of the scenario. He decided to ignore the part where Rachel told him she was happy and excited to be carefree and excited to be in Janey's arms.

Yeah, he ignored all that because it was Quinn.

It was the girl of their dreams they were talking about here.

He snuck his eyes up to her in the front seat, the wispy blonde hair swaying left and right with every exaggerated turn of Judy's. He gulped; she was still magnificent. Even after all these years of stupid decisions and ridiculous soul-searching and incomparably bad timing when it came to her career choices, she was still magnificent.

And Rachel had to have her. She couldn't be alone. Quinn couldn't exist in this world and not have someone worshipping her like Rachel would, like he would. She deserved that. A woman like Quinn deserved that.

He would do everything in his power to make sure it-

Judy whipped the wheel left again and he groaned.

"Mrs. Fabray, I-"

"Judy. Call me Judy. Or driver! That could be fun, right?" she laughed. "Oh my gosh, can we have names? We can have names!"

"What do you mean names, Mom?"

"Well like, you know, rescue team names. They have those, right?"

"Can we get back to the more important topic at hand," she chided with a smile. "What do I say to her? Palo?"

"What? Why, me?" he whimpered, curling into the window and begging for fresh air. His stomach turned loops and loops and loops.

"You're first. Go!"

"Um, tell her how everything you did in Madrid was for her. Tell her how you convinced Arna to dedicate 'Love Found' to her. Tell her, ugh," he moaned and clutched his stomach, "tell her about your senior thesis being all about family dynamics in young adult novels because you couldn't get her perfect childhood with you out of your head."

Quinn thought on it. Good, but eh.

"Mom, your turn. What do I say?"

"Why are you asking us? You know what to say!" she shrieked and took a turn a bit too hastily. Quinn wrenched the bar, Palo growled and Puck closed his eyes. She was going to kill him; she was going to kill them all.

"Clearly I don't know what to say!" Quinn gasped. "It's been so long! I don't, I don't even know where to start. And I have to walk into her room, words as my only weapon, and convince her not to get married! Help me!"

"Honey, I've never convinced someone to not get married! It's a little crazy, I mean let's be honest."

Quinn deadpanned.

"Are you kidding me right now?"

"What? I don't live an insane movie-style life like you girls apparently do, waiting 'til the last minute to do and say everything. We said stuff back then! We said it when we felt it! And you used to be that way. You used to be old school like your mother. I liked that about you," she mused with a grin, happily taking a very unnecessary walk down memory lane at an incredibly inconvenient time.

"Mom."

"What, honey?"

"You are not helping! And I'm still old school! Look at us; rushing to the hotel to stop a wedding. That's old school!"

"Yeah, yeah. Look, honey, just speak from the heart."

"And say what?" Quinn gasped as they took another turn, Judy squealing.

"I'm good at this height of the climax driving thing!"

"If you kill me before I get to see Rachel, I will never give you grandchildren."

"You'd be dead; who wants zombie grandchildren anyway?" she laughed and Quinn scoffed. "Baby, look, you march in there and you say everything you said in that text, but you say it louder and with all the love you can pull out of your heart."

"What if she doesn't want to take a chance with me again?" Quinn murmured as they screeched up to the front of the Plaza. The car jolted to a stop and the moment slammed into her from behind, finally catching up.

She looked out her window to the imposing, castle like building to her right, eyes craning further and further north. It loomed large and her stomach shot to her throat. Go figure Rachel would have her wedding at the Plaza.

"Quinn, look at me," Judy murmured, threw on the parking brake and turned to her. She brought her eyes to her mother's; they shined confident, strong and supportive.

"Yes ma'am?"

She felt fifteen again. She felt fifteen and like she was asking her mom if she could pick them up after school because they were going to hang out in her room- and she was going to kiss her. She had the same nerves. She had the same fear: rejection.

"If you go in there," her mom spoke softly, "and you lay your heart on the line and you say all you need to say and she still wants to get married, well then you call me. And I'll come get you. And you'll have my arms and Palo's arms and Noah's arms and your father's arms to fall into; we will be here and you'll survive."

Quinn swiped her defiant right eye and nodded.

"But I'll tell you," Judy added, "she's not going to get married, at least not to that girl. You also call me if you need me to bring you a white dress. Russell and I will be there in a jiffy," she giggled, wiggling her eyebrows and eyes glinting in the low light of the car's dimmer light.

"You think she'll choose me?"

"I know she will. You just have to give her no choice."

Quinn nodded, took a deep breath and looked back to Puck.

"You ready?" he asked. She nodded again.

At that, they stepped out of the car and the busy New York street sounds flooded her ears and clogged her thoughts. The cold December weather smacked into her chest and she said a prayer of thanks for remembering her jacket. Suddenly, she felt the shivers. And there was no way she was just cold.

She looked down, taking in her jeans, black turtle neck and white and black checkered pea-coat. Her mother had plopped a red scarf around her neck before she bounced out the door and she was thankful. She looked New York chic and prayed Rachel noticed. She could be pretty on her arm, she could. Look how pretty she could be on her arm.

"Hey, you alright?" Puck's voice cut into her thoughts and she took a deep breath.

"Yeah. Let's go," she whispered, took another deep breath and laced her arm through his. "I'm your girlfriend or wife?"

"Let's say wife, for kicks," he grinned and they strolled into the glamorous, knee-quaking lobby of the Plaza. Huge arched ceilings sucked the breath from her chest as her heels clicked over the marble floor. It was absolutely stunning in every way. The counters sparkled under the chandelier, light jazz music danced over her ears and the pristinely ironed cuffs of every employee who passed her reeked of superiority.

Rachel deserved to get married in a place like that.

She absolutely did. Every detail was tended to, every inch shined, and Rachel deserved that. It was perfect.

If only she had chosen to marry the right woman.

If only Quinn hadn't taken off so many times.

Maybe it would be them?

They glided up to the counter and Puck introduced himself again. They exchanged words, security phrases and then they were dismissed with approval and a kind smile.

"You're a genius," she whispered into his ear as they strolled towards the gold plated elevators. He reached out to smack the Up button and they settled to a stop in front of them.

He watched her shimmer in the reflection the doors gave off. He watched her grin nervously. He watched her clench tight to his arm in fear. Her hair fell every which way, without purpose, but with it in the same right. A small red barrette clipped her unruly bangs off to the side of her forehead, letting her hazel eyes land as the focus just as they should.

She twitched a bit in his grasp. And her top teeth continued to nibble lightly on her bottom lip. He could see the wheels turning over and over in her head; what would she say to Rachel? What would happen? It was the moment of her life and he got to stand by her, hold her arm in his, and support her… the love of his life.

"You're beautiful," he muttered to the doors and watched her reflection pull up to look at his. Those eyes found his stare and a wave of realization rolled over her. The weight of his stare, his arm, and those eyes told her everything she never knew. It blanketed warmth over her heart. It blanketed security over her shoulders. She dropped the reflection's gaze and turned into him.

Her arms dragged up and around his shoulders, squeezing his neck and pulling him closer. He inhaled as she came nearer, her body pulling into his and their cheeks falling in touch.

"I love you," she murmured in his ear and placed a kiss to his cheek.

He sighed, smelling her hair, her neck and feeling her waist in his hands. She was everything he ever wanted.

"I've loved you for years," he whispered, the low hum of his voice painting her with comfort. She stepped closer and laced her arms fully around his neck. He was the perfect boy she never wanted. He was the perfect friend Rachel always needed. And he would be the best man of honor- at _their_ wedding. She knew it.

"Come here," she murmured, pulled back and brought her lips to his.

It failed to be chaste, but it was exactly what she wanted and he needed; it was understanding, love, and appreciation. She brought her lips over his once more, sliding her fingers softly down his neck and then she pulled away.

"Thank you. I can never thank you enough," she whispered, forehead falling to his and a cheer in her heart.

"She deserves you," he murmured.

She looked up to him and found confident eyes. And for once, that confidence drained into her, setting her nerves on fire. She felt good enough for Rachel Berry. She felt right for Rachel Berry. She felt like she was it. She would make the girl happy. It was her job. It was all she wanted since she was fifteen and she made Rachel smile. She made her mission, her one goal in life, to make that smile happen as often as possible.

That would be her life.

And for once, that was enough for her. Rachel was it.

"I finally think I'm good enough. Do you think I'm good enough?"

"I've always thought you were good enough," he grinned, pecked her cheek and unwrapped himself from her arms. The elevators dinged open and they laced their fingers together before stepping inside.

They pivoted, leaned against the gold banister and watched the doors flutter shut and the floor level count up. Her chest tightened in on itself. And he watched her out of the corner of his eye. He'd never seen her so brave. He'd never seen a person do something so courageous.

His respect grew tenfold in one short elevator ride.

She was about to crush her own heart or live. And she was choosing to risk that pain just for one shot at living. He wanted to be more like her. He wanted to find a woman like her. Where was his Quinn? Did she exist?

He looked back to the floor numbers and closed his eyes.

"You okay?" she asked.

"Yeah," he sighed. "She's just going to kill me if this goes wrong. I'd lose the love of my life and my best friend all in one night."

"How you figure?"

"You'll be a hollowed shell. That woman I love will disappear. And Rachel, she'll never speak to me again. If she chooses Janey and I helped bring this pain on her the night before her wedding, she'll never speak to me again."

"Tell me she'll choose me, Noah," she begged.

He turned to her, the name rolling like sweetness over his ears.

"You called me Noah."

"Rachel calls you Noah."

"Yeah," he smiled. "She does."

"Tell me."

"She'll choose you," he said, steady eyes and calm heart. "She will."

Quinn turned back to the doors and watched the floor light flutter to a stop. She took a deep breath, looked at him, and clapped her hands together.

"Ready for this?" she asked.

"Are _you_ ready for this?"

"You have a job, too!"

"I can handle my job just fine. It's your part that's hard," he scoffed.

"Which room is hers?" Quinn asked as they stepped out of the elevator and onto the floor. They walked right up to a sandwich sign displayed in the floor lobby between the left and right halls.

It greeted the bridal party of the Jansen-Berry wedding.

"First? She's _first_?" Quinn griped. Puck chuckled at her antics and pulled her arm to direct her around the board and down the right hall.

She wrenched free, stormed back to the sign, folded it up and placed it against the wall, announcement side in.

"Do you feel better now?" he grumbled.

"Much," she replied haughtily and followed him back down the hotel hallway. Big, wooden doors lined the left side of the marble floor. God, everything about it was gorgeous. It was starting to make her nauseated, especially after that sign.

"She's in 818," he whispered, slowing his stroll and coming to the door. He looked at Quinn, arched an eyebrow and stepped in front of the door. Quinn leaned against the wall beside it, gasping for a few steadying breaths and then nodded. "You sure you can do this?" he asked.

"Yes. I have it in me. I do."

"You sure? Because if I knock, it starts. This is where it starts. No turning back," he warned. She reached out, smacked his arm and nodded.

"Knock, Noah."

"Here we go," he huffed, sucked in some air and knocked on the door.

Quinn straightened up. Her heart clenched. Her fists balled. And her knees quivered.

One beat, two beat, three beats, and four.

She locked her eyes on Puck's and waited. He stared strongly at the door.

She could do this. She could rise to the occasion.

The lock clicked, the jam squeaked and the door pulled open.

"Hey! What are you doing here?" she beamed.

Puck stepped back.

Quinn rotated into view, reared her fist back and socked Janey square in the nose with a loud crack.

The redhead choked back air.

She fell to her knees.

She grasped at her now bleeding face.

And she wrecked with sobs.

And Quinn, well Quinn grinned. She grinned like it would be her last.

"You better cry, you manipulative bitch," she spat and lunged forward. Puck laced an arm around her waist, wrenched her back and tossed her into the hall.

"One, the deal was one shot."

"What the _fuck_?" Janey shrieked.

And Quinn beamed.

She fucking lit the dark, romantic hallway with her rays of sunshine.

"You got what you had coming; end of story," she barked at the redhead, redface, and redfuckingnose. God, it made her insides cheer. She whipped to Puck. "You got this? No phones, no computers, no nothing. Don't let her leave. Don't let her reach out. One job, Noah, one job. You got it?"

"I got it. 803."

"What?"

"Rachel's in 803."

She gulped and smiled.

"Whatever it takes, Q," he said.

"Whatever it takes," she murmured, watched Puck force Janey into her room and shut the door behind them. She turned to the empty hall.

"803. Whatever it takes."

_Whatever it takes._


	51. Chapter 50 Seven Minutes Later

The explosion everyone is waiting for. HOLD HANDS, YOU GUYS!

XO Dylan

* * *

><p>Seven Long, Very Long Minutes Later<p>

_You're beautiful in the moonlight. Yes, but what about the bears?_

Quinn stood outside 803. In fact, she'd been standing outside 803 for about seven minutes now. Her throat closed up and she couldn't breathe. She checked her watched every thirty seconds it seemed. It was only nine o'clock. Rachel would be awake. Rachel would be… God, what would Rachel be doing the night before her wedding to the wrong woman?  
>What does a woman do the night before her wedding to the wrong woman? Shit, Quinn didn't know. How often did that happen?<p>

She gulped and her saliva choked in her throat.

"Breathe, Quinnie," she whispered to herself, eyes fluttering shut and heart pounding out of her chest. "She loves you, she loves you, she loves you. No matter what she says, no matter what hate comes out of her mouth, she loves _you_."

She breathed, sucked in air and released it.

Her eyes fluttered back open.

And she thanked god Rachel was too short for peep holes.

She raised her hand, hovered an inch from the huge wooden door and then let it fall. It knocked lightly, too lightly, and she stopped breathing. This was it. This was her moment of truth, moment of bravery, and moment of quite possibly the worst most fucking heart breaking incident of her entire-

The door swung open.

And twenty four year old Rachel Berry stood before her.

Her brain drained of inner monologue as Rachel's eyes continued to widen. Her heart pounded with fear as Rachel's jaw continued to fall. And then her body, brain, and courage snapped into gear as those cheeks flushed red.

"Hi," Quinn uttered, she _thought_. She couldn't tell if it came out or not.

"What are- what are you doing here?" Rachel choked out, hand still on the open door while her other fluttered for something to grasp; it twitched to the frame, her hip, the wall, her waist, and back to the wall.

The wall wouldn't save her this time.

"I need to talk to you."

"It's late, we can talk tomorrow afternoon at the reception," Rachel offered, face stone cold and weight hanging dead center.

"You don't quite understand," Quinn said. "We need to _talk_."

Rachel's stare leveled her.

She didn't balk, she didn't blink, and she hardly breathed.

She didn't speak.

She didn't twitch.

"Rachel?"

"Why are you here, Quinn?"

"To talk."

"I don't want to _talk_," Rachel snapped.

Quinn swallowed her fear. _She loves her. She loves her. She loves her. Rachel loves her. _ _Fucking get your girl._

She bowed out her chest, snapped into HBIC and opened her mouth.

"I don't _care_ if you want to or not, we're going to," she commanded, pushed past Rachel and walked into the grand hotel room.

Rachel whipped around.

"What do you think you're doing?" She closed the door and spun around. "I get _married_ tomorrow, Quinn. I need my beauty sleep!"

The blonde ignored her, choosing instead to find refuge in the stunning hotel room before her. It resembled the lobby, but smashed down smaller and with a bed in the center. It shimmered extravagant, almost to the point of unnecessary.

And that's when Quinn took it back; the Plaza wasn't for Rachel Berry, not the one she knew. The Plaza was Rachel Berry with Janey Jansen. The Plaza was excessive and superfluous and was needed when the bridal party had no love. It masked a hollow wedding was what it did. And looking around that room, Quinn never felt more confident.

Rachel thrust her hands to her hips and huffed.

"Are you listening to me? I need to sleep, Quinn. Or tomorrow I'll be walking down the aisle looking puffy with black circles under my eyes."

Quinn choked back a smirk. _Don't_ laugh at her. Do _not_ laugh at her.

"Rach, you're really quite dense sometimes, you know that?" he turned, set her hands down on her hips and stared into her favorite tiny creature.

"What?"

"You think I showed up at your hotel door the night before your wedding to simply chat? You think I'm here to catch up and wish you luck?"

Rachel swallowed, because she knew exactly why Quinn was there and with every breath she took she attempted to pretend it wasn't happening.

She snapped her mouth shut and looked away.

She _knew_.

Quinn knew she knew as well as she knew she was standing there, as well as she knew she was breathing, as well as she knew her heart was beating for Quinn.

She had to know.

_Say it louder and with all the love you can pull out of your heart._

She raked her eyes over the girl before her in light grey yoga pants, a white- god see through- tank top and post-shower, dried and thrown into a ponytail hair. Rachel chewed on the insides of her cheeks. Quinn saw them sink in every other second. She breathed rapidly, but through her nose for disguise. But Quinn saw her chest heaving. She kept her fingers locked still, but Quinn saw her toes curling in anxiety. And those eyes, they stayed calm and cool, locked on the lamp on the table at her side, but Quinn saw the rocking ocean inside them fluttering under the light. She saw everything about her.

She was perfect, beautiful and astounding: Rachel freaking Berry.

And it was time to take her back.

"I'm still in love with you," she said, surer than anything in her life.

Those familiar brown eyes, familiar but aged, snapped up to hers.

"You can't do this."

"I'm doing it."

"Please, don't do this," she begged, a hairline crack splintering her façade as tears welled in her eyes. Her fingers grasped the table to her left. Quinn watched her knuckles go white.

"I'm doing it, Rach," she repeated. "It needs to be done."

"It doesn't. I'm happy," she whimpered. "I'm finally okay in my heart and in my head. Please don't do this."

"I don't believe you."

"I've never lied to you."

"Yes, you have. You lied to me in bed two years ago and you're lying to me again right now. You've lied to me plenty of times, but I forgive you. Because I love you and I know you love me."

Oh, no she did not just say that. Rachel fumed, her stomach knotting and her knees shivering. Her biceps flexed and her veins bulged.

"_You_ forgive _me_?" she growled, her insides flipping the anxiety over and burning it into anger. Her passivity and pleading for the situation to end dissipated because if Quinn was going to barge into _her_ hotel room the night before _her_ wedding, she sure as hell wasn't going to sit there and listen to her say _she_ forgave _Rachel_.

"I do," Quinn stated. "I forgive you."

"You have a lot of nerve."

"Yes, that is true. It took a lot to come here. It took a lot to knock on your door. It took a lot to say that. It's going to take a lot to say everything I need to say to you."

"I don't care what you have to say," Rachel snapped, turned on her heel and headed to gold-crusted mini bar. She ripped the ice chest lid of its bucket, threw a few pieces into a glass and poured herself a drink.

"Should you be drinking the night before your wedding?" Quinn chided, hoping to rile her up. She needed her riled up. She needed her flying through the air. She needed her lashing out with that tongue and saying what she _felt_. "Don't wanna stumble down the aisle or anything…" she added.

And when Rachel whipped around, Quinn knew she'd done it.

Ice cubes flew through the air. One after the next, Rachel launched them at her. She ducked, jived and guarded her face as they pelted her.

"I hate you!" Rachel shrieked, grabbed the entire bucket and launched it at Quinn. She ducked to the floor and it crashed to the wall behind her.

"I know you don't mean that," she growled and crawled back to her feet.

"I do!" she spat, pacing back and forth in front of the bar. Her neck turned beat red and Quinn could've sworn smoke billowed from her ears.

"No, you don't. You're in love with me. And I'm not afraid to say that."

Rachel froze, jaw smashing into the ground. She couldn't believe this girl. Who was she to waltz into her hotel room, on the eve of her wedding, and call bullshit on her feelings? She needed her out. She needed her gone.

"I'm _not_ in love with you. I moved on years ago. And I don't have anything else to say to you," she barked, crossed her arms and leaned against the bar. "You should go."

"I'm not leaving. And you're lying, yet again," Quinn said and moved to the chaise in the corner of the room. She sat down, getting comfortable, crossed one leg over the other and leaned back. She was staying, regardless.

Rachel gaped.

"I don't have anything to say to you," she repeated.

"Then _I'll_ talk," Quinn smiled, finally feeling like she was fighting for something. She was fighting for it, she was stepping up, she _wasn't_ walking away.

"Whatever," Rachel muttered, turned around and sat down on the foot of the bed. When Quinn fell from sight, her chest heaved, gasping for fresh air. God, she needed to get her shit together. She needed to relax. She needed to breathe. She needed to stop chewing on her cheeks.

"I wrote you back," the voice of her dreams called from over her left shoulder. She fought the urge to turn and look at the blonde.

"What are you talking about?" she sighed, already exhausted.

"Two years ago you asked me about the woman at Juilliard. You said it was important," she started and saw Rachel's back tighten. She saw the muscles in her neck clench. "I wrote you back that day, a few minutes later."

"No, you didn't. I sat by my phone and waited."

"How long?"

"How long what?"

"How long did you wait before you walked away from your phone?"

Rachel turned over her shoulder.

"How do you know I walked away from my phone?"

"Because I wrote you back. And you never got it," Quinn said, heart pounding out of her chest and hands trembling her lap. She needed to navigate carefully. She needed to steer their ship home. She watched that entire afternoon plagued Rachel's thoughts. Her eyes twitched as she recalled everything.

Rachel remembered standing in the kitchen, hands on her hips and anger in her heart, just waiting for her phone to vibrate. She stood there. And then she gave up. She went to get boxes.

Quinn saw it in her eyes and her heart leapt.

"You walked away from it didn't you? You left it on a table or something?" Quinn muttered.

"Yes."

And then she knew: Janey.

What had Janey done?

"I wrote you back, Rachel. I wrote you back. I opened my heart, told you everything and begged for another chance."

Rachel turned fully around and brought her knees to her chest on the bed. Quinn felt her own smile twitch up just barely at the sight. Rachel looked innocently beautiful and overwhelmingly confused.

"I never got it," she murmured, more to herself than anything. "What did you say?" And why did she need to know? Why was she asking that? God, why was she asking that? She didn't want to ask Quinn that. She wanted her to get up and leave.

"You mean about what happened at Juilliard?"

Rachel nodded.

"Do you really want to know?"

She nodded again, letting her chin fall to her knees. She felt her façade take another crack and her heart peak out behind its door. And all of it, every single bit of it, terrified her to the core.

"The door girl at your tryouts, Vanessa. Do you remember her?"

"Yeah."

"When you went inside, I asked her if there a place I could wait for you. She- she laughed at me. She said there was never anywhere to wait," Quinn explained, her voice cracking. "She said there was never a place to wait because talent associated with _talent_."

Rachel gawked.

"I- I told her I wasn't just your friend, that we were together together. And she found that even funnier. She found it hilarious. She told me- she told me it was worse," she shrugged pathetically and her eyes ran over. "She told me you would walk away from me one day. That she'd seen thirty of me that day. And like forty the year before, and so on. She called me a hanger-onner and that every person inside had one whom they would eventually walk away from."

And Rachel still gawked.

"And so she told me," she whimpered, swiped a tear and looked to the ceiling for some sort of resolve. "She told me to walk away before you did. That- that it would hurt less. And I was seventeen years old, Rachel, so I believed her. She had a clipboard and was mean and used awful words and so I believed her," she cried. "I believed her."

"Why would you believe her over our love, over how I treated you? You were everything to me."

Quinn's chin took flight and she swiped her eyes further. _Were._

"Because it was always a fear: to lose you. It was always there. You were everything to me and still are. You were all I had. Without you," she paused, the truth ripping at her soul and pulling at her tears. "Without you, I was nothing. If you walked away, if you broke my heart, I had nothing. I had nothing."

Rachel watched her high school sweetheart fall open before her.

She watched her bat at her tears and attempt to control the sobbing breaths ripping at her chest. And all she could think about was how that was her. That was her twice and so many times more. That was her at seventeen and at nineteen and at twenty-two and god knows how many other times.

And it enraged her.

"So you broke _mine_ instead," she snapped. "You pulled away, you shrunk into your little hole and then you watched my father die before you walked away from me."

Quinn gulped.

"I'm so sorry."

"For what exactly, Quinn? For watching me flounder? For never being there? For standing across from me at his funeral instead of beside me?"

"I can't apologize enough."

"No, you can't. Because what you did is unforgiveable and I thought it wasn't when I was seventeen. I thought you deserved another chance because we could _talk_ about it and, and, and grow together and move on!" she growled, slowly building to a rage as Quinn reminded her everything she ever did and didn't do.

She crawled off the bed as the memories pounded into her against her will. She wanted them to stop. She needed them stop. She didn't want to hurt and remember and think about all the things that wrecked her and all the things Quinn never wanted to address.

"I thought it could be fixed, but you never wanted to talk about it! You never, ever fucking talked about it!"

"I'm talking about it _now_."

"The night before my wedding? Do you not see how selfish and wrong that is, Quinn? You're a piece of work," she huffed.

"Better late than never."

"Don't throw fucking one liners at me to justify this!"

"It's true."

"Get out of my hotel room."

"No."

"Get out!"

"No, last time you threw me out of your room, I let you. This time, I'm not. I'm staying and we're talking until I have nothing left to say to you."

"What else could you possibly say?"

"There's loads to say, Rachel!" she boasted and took to her feet. "There's everything to say! God, Madrid, let's talk about Madrid!"

"What's there to talk about?"

"Madrid was all about you."

"What?"

"It was always about you. It spawned from that fucking woman, but it was always about you. I needed something to make you proud. I needed something to balance you. You're incredible. You're talented. You walk into a room and you light the place up. I couldn't hold a candle to you and I thought- I thought one day you would realize that."

"No, you went off to find security."

"I went off to find the girl you used to love!"

"She was still there, Quinn! I still loved you!"

"Really? You honestly believe I was the same girl? You remember what it was like. I couldn't step foot at Juilliard. We barely spoke. We had meaningless sex. We stopped laughing. I was coasting, Rachel. And then my teacher walked in with an offer I thought could bring me back. I needed her back if I had any chance to keep you."

"You'd already lost me."

"All the more reason to go. I had to try. I had to find my fire and my confidence."

"And then you came back and would barely look at me!" Rachel blamed and paced towards the door, then back to the bar, and then back to the door. Quinn watched her slowly fall apart at the seams.

She wanted to open her up and read her like a book.

God, what was she really thinking?

"That was a misunderstanding," Quinn argued.

"How in the hell was that a misunderstanding?"

"I got back and all I wanted was you. I got back and standing at your graduation, all I wanted was to lay you down and _take you_ in the grass, Rachel!" Quinn bellowed and Rachel froze. "It's all I thought about. You touched my hand and my spine ignited. You hugged me and I soaked through my shorts. And we were standing there in the middle of a crowd. God, I needed to breathe. I couldn't breathe, so I stepped back."

"I can't-"

"It was the same thing at our anniversary dinner. I wanted to gush and hold you and flirt and kiss, but you seemed reserved and bitter and resentful. So I took it slow. I knew I needed to take it slow to reel you back in. I needed to relearn you. But- but it was always about you."

"No, it was about your stupid bookstore."

"Ever my bookstore is about you. Even my god damn book store is about you! From the moment I got back, I wanted to take you there. I wanted to see where you'd put your coffee maker and if you wanted a chaise against this window or that window. All I ever wanted was to take you there and you couldn't even give me that."

"I went!" she shrieked and crashed down onto the chair beside the bathroom door. There were fucking chairs _everywhere._

She pulled her legs into her chest and glared at the blonde.

Yeah, she _went_.

"You- you went where?" Quinn stuttered.

"To your bookstore."

"When?" she gasped.

Shit. Rachel what the fuck was she thinking?

Shit, shit, shit.

She couldn't say a few weeks ago.

That gave away everything. Which was what exactly? Fuck, Rachel.

"A year or so ago. I happened upon it."

"Don't lie to me," Quinn barked. "I'm sitting here pulling my heart open for you and you're lying to me?"

"Fine! Three weeks ago! I went three weeks ago."

"Why?"

"That doesn't matter. What matters is that I read our _story_," she spat, taunting and throwing it at the gorgeous blonde. God, she was gorgeous and Rachel loathed it. She loathed it even though her words stilled the girl.

Quinn froze, her feet conjoining with the lush, carpeted floor.

"Arna's," she whispered, eyes widening and heart clenching in her chest.

"Yeah," Rachel snapped. "Arna's. Arna's fantastically little whimsical story about two girls falling in love and one of them setting the other free because sometimes love _isn't_ all you need. Yeah, I read it. Beautiful, just beautiful," she groaned.

"Rachel that was before-"

"Before what? You just told me Madrid was all about me. And this story is from then. This story where you set me free and love isn't enough. So explain _that_. What's your excuse for that?"

"These aren't excuses! And shit, it's just a story! Sometimes love _isn't_ enough, Rachel. But that doesn't mean I don't think it's enough for us!"

"No, it's not enough."

"Rachel."

"No," she snapped and wiped a defiant tear. "I get it. I saw it plain as day in that story and that night I turned around and committed to my fiancée once and for all. That's all you need to know."

"It's just a story!"

"It matters!"

"Well then it should matter that the third book is fucking dedicated to you, Rachel! Does that matter?"

"It's what?"

"So take your issues with fucking fictional books and let them matter or not matter, because I don't care. You now know everything I know. You have all my thoughts. You- you see straight through me. I'm an open fucking book for you," she cried. "I walked away the first time because I was terrified to be without you. And I walked away the second time to assure I could always keep you. Okay? I had to make something of myself!"

"Yeah and you took too fucking long to do it."

"No, I didn't. We didn't last back then because we didn't talk to each other. It wasn't about the time. It was about us! We never spoke. And it was my fault. I'm standing here saying it was my fault. But we're talking now. This is what we needed."

"And I'm too angry with you to even think about you any other way than as my ex who broke me apart! Don't you see what you've done with all of this?"

Quinn gulped and stepped back.

"You took too long, Quinn. You drained me. You broke my heart twice and _made_ me break yours just so I could fucking breathe. Everything I associate with you hurts me now! Do you know what that feels like?"

"Of course I know what that feels like! Every time a bus floats by with your face on it, a newspaper clipping with a review of you, and god, just grass! _Grass_, Rachel! Grass makes my heart ache because I think about the ring I put on your finger."

And Rachel's did, too. God, hers did, too. Quinn didn't know how much and she didn't _need_ to know. She didn't need to know Rachel thought of her when her fiancée proposed because they were sitting in grass. She didn't need to know that. She didn't need to know it took her day to decide simply because of a blade of grass. She didn't need to know.

But looking at Rachel not responding to her, Quinn knew.

"You do, too. You feel it," she whispered. And brown eyes darted from hers.

"No."

"You do," Quinn muttered and stepped forward. Rachel's hands shook, her chest heaved, her teeth bit into her bottom lip and her weight shifted. All of her disguises evaporated. And it reached into Quinn's chest and shocked her heart. She could do this. She could walk away _with_ Rachel.

She stepped forward again and Rachel stepped back.

"I know you're in love with me."

"I'm not," Rachel whimpered, begging for truth in the statement. She didn't want to be. She wanted to marry Janey tomorrow and she wanted to be happy and light and carefree. But here was Quinn, her past, knocking on her door and offering another round.

God, what number would that be?

Seven?

How many rounds had they gone through unsuccessfully? How many more times could Quinn break her heart before it officially stopped beating? And why would Rachel ever risk that? Why? For real love?

Real love ruined her.

It did. It ruined her to her core and she lost herself, time and time again. She couldn't do it again. She couldn't.

"I want you to leave," she whispered, not even realizing it was falling from her mouth. Quinn's head jerked to hers.

"No."

"I'm not asking you."

"I'm not leaving."

"You said you would stay until you said everything you had to say. Well you've said everything and now I want you to leave. I choose Janey. I choose easy. I may not be in love with her, but I love her. She makes me happy."

"I made you happier."

"_Made_. I put you to rest, Quinn. I moved on. You went out into the world to find your way and I did the same. I found a life I can be okay with. I like it. It's fun. I smile. I laugh. I feel secure. That's important to me."

"I can be that for you," Quinn cried.

"Not anymore. You used to be that for me, but you're not anymore."

"I am. You have to give me a chance to show you. She's back. The girl you fell for in high school is back."

"I believe that; you wouldn't be here if she weren't, but it's too late. I don't have the energy to relearn you and frankly, I'm too tired to try. I'm too tired _because _of you, Quinn. Do you get that?"

"Yes," she sobbed. "But it can't be over."

"It is."

"I don't accept that."

"I'm not asking you to. I'm just asking you to leave," Rachel sighed.

She needed her out of the room. She needed her gone. She'd buried her. Rachel's heart was finally secure and moving in the right direction. And here she was, standing in front of a crying Quinn and feeling all in disarray again. She couldn't do it. She couldn't go back to zombie life.

"I'm sorry," Rachel added and Quinn gasped through her sobbing, hand to her forehead, cheeks, heart, side. She touched everywhere just looking for something sturdy.

"For, for what?" she choked out.

"For how everything went. Hearing your side of it, I get it now. I wish I had known it years ago, but I get it now."

"And?"

"And that's it. I get it. I see your side. I understand what you were feeling and doing."

"But?"

"But I'm happy with the choice I made. I'm happy choosing to be secure in a relationship that may not be ideal, but is good for me."

"She's manipulating you! She ruined our chance!" Quinn yelled.

"_You_ ruined our chance. She did what it took to get me, just like you're doing now. Who's manipulating who, Quinn?"

She balked, eyes wide and air ripped from her lungs.

"That's how you see this? You see me coming here as _manipulating_ you?"

"I think you're clinging to something you once had because you have no one else," Rachel ripped out before she could stop herself.

She regretted it instantly and her eyes found the floor. She couldn't look at that shocked face. She couldn't look at the pain pouring from it.

She'd caused it. God, her heart hurt. It hurt so, so bad.

"I can't believe you just said that to me."

"I'm sorry."

"I'm with no one else because my heart's been in your hands since I was fourteen, Rachel! There was never anyone else!"

"Then I feel sorry for you."

"Oh, don't. Don't do that. Don't pity me. I don't want your pity. I don't need it. I have enough of it for you."

"Me?"

"Yes, you!"

"Why? What could you possibly pity me for?" Rachel gasped and dug her nails into her hips. She needed this to be over. Now. She needed Quinn out. She needed her face gone from memory. She needed her heart to stop pounding in fear of feeling like she used to feel.

She would be okay. She would survive this.

It would be okay. It would. She would be okay the second Quinn left.

"Because you're settling. You're settling for mediocre and the one thing that tells me is that you have no idea who you are anymore. Rachel Berry would never settle for second best."

"You don't know anything about me anymore."

"I know you don't love her and that tells me everything I need to know."

"It tells you _nothing_. Leave."

"No."

"Leave!" she shrieked and those beautiful hazel eyes jumped out of their sockets.

And then they fell on hers. They locked on. They locked on like they hadn't locked on since she stepped foot in the room and Rachel felt her heart swallow itself. She couldn't look at them. But she couldn't look away.

"Rachel."

"Leave," she whimpered. "Please."

"I don't think you want me to leave," Quinn muttered and stepped forward. "I see you breaking down. I can see it in your eyes, baby."

And then, those eyes flashed hot.

It slammed their entire past into her and crushed her to the floor.

"Don't call me that," she spat.

The crumbling façade shot back together. She stood tall. She looked those anchors right in their fucking centers and she scowled. "I told you I made my choice. My choice is Janey. Please leave now."

"Rachel."

"Respect the fact that I've _made_ a decision that has nothing to do with you, Quinn! God, do I need to write it down and spell it out for you? I made my choice! It's not you. It used to be you every day for years, but you stole that from me! You stole it, you ruined it and you abandoned it. You lost your chance. I don't care if I missed a text-"

"You didn't miss it; she deleted it! Your fiancée!"

"To keep me! You used to have balls like that, Quinn! I loved them!"

"It's not the same and you know it."

"It's the same in my eyes." She_ thought_.

"No, it's not. You're just making excuses for her to justify your decision."

"A decision that's been made," Rachel said with finality.

"It's not- it can't be-"

"It is. Now leave."

"Rachel."

" I don't expect you at the wedding tomorrow, either."

"Short stack," she whimpered, her tears returning in full. They painted the front of her checkered jacket right over her bleeding heart.

"Please don't make this more difficult than it has to be," Rachel sobbed, her heart breaking open in her chest. Why did this girl have to terrify her? Why did she have to spend the past 5 years ruining Rachel? Why? Why couldn't she have stayed the passionate, love and sex obsessed blonde from high school?

_They_ would be getting married tomorrow had she done so.

And now, now Rachel just wanted her out of her sight. She wanted her porcelain skin and her anchors and her long legs out of her sight.

"Please, Quinn," she cried. "Please go."

The sight pounded a gavel down on Quinn's heart.

It was done. It was over.

She'd waltzed in there, spoke her mind, and said her peace.

Rachel made her choice. It wasn't her. She had to walk away and leave the damage where it landed before she caused more. But what if-

"But-" she gasped through another choking effort for air. "But-"

It couldn't be over.

"No buts, Quinn. I'm sorry. I love you, but I'm sorry. It's done."

Quinn nodded.

And her heart shattered.

It was done.

She nodded and breathed, sucking in air as her heart drizzled into lava and burned her insides. It would kill her. It would kill her beyond return.

"Thank you," Rachel sighed, relief running over her. Those eyes and that hair and that smile were that much closer to leaving.

"I'm sorry," Quinn murmured. "I'm so sorry."

"I know."

Quinn gathered her trembling hands, glanced around the chair behind her- out of sorts and out of her mind- and sauntered her way towards Rachel, heading for the door. Five feet passed and those brown eyes avoided hers.

They came shoulder to shoulder and Quinn slowed.

Was this the last time she'd see her? Was it the last time she'd smell her?

Rachel freaking Berry, love of her life and pain in her ass.

Was it the last time?

"Is this goodbye?" she whispered into the air and empty room in front of her, her peripheral vision telling her Rachel was crying just the same.

"Yes," she whispered and a new set of tears set free on Quinn. "It has to be."

Quinn's body shook with sobs, hand over her chest and lungs aching for air and release and relief all at once. She ached. She ached from head to toe and her life was over.

If it was goodbye, she was taking everything she could.

She turned to the right, took one last risk, and went in for the last hug, the last touch, the last feel of Rachel Berry. She snaked her arms around the short, talented, and astoundingly beautiful girl and squeezed her tight.

She felt so right in her arms. She felt so perfect.

Why could they not have been perfect?

Why could she not let them be perfect?

How could it be over? How could Rachel do this to them?

She had no idea who the brunette was. She had no idea.

She felt so real in her arms and she felt so familiar.

But she had no idea who she was anymore.

She was settling for mediocrity and that wasn't the girl Quinn fell.

They'd both changed.

She'd lost her.

Quinn tightened her arms around her love.

And then Rachel sighed against her will, as if she'd finally _returned_ home, and it slammed new wind into Quinn. It opened the doors, flung back the curtains and told Quinn everything she _actually_ needed to know.

Rachel wanted her. She was in love with her.

She was just terrified to the point of inaction, to the point of denial.

And in that moment, Quinn decided she wasn't leaving. She wasn't walking away. Rachel would have to throw her out by the hair.

She would do what it took.

She pulled back, took a breath and a leap of faith and brought her lips down onto Rachel's. The girl gasped under the move and jerked back, but Quinn stepped forward. She laced her hands tightly around her neck and held her.

"Stop," Rachel murmured into her lips, just before pressing back into them. "Stop," she said again, just before pulling her lips over Quinn's. "Stop," she said once more, just before she snaked her arms around the blonde's shoulders.

Quinn dropped her hands to Rachel's waist and jerked their bodies together. She needed her to feel it. She needed her to feel the waves she felt crashing over her.

She would assault Rachel's senses if she had to; she wasn't leave until the girl chose her. So she pushed harder, plying those lips into making love with hers. She missed them. She missed the way they slid over hers, so familiar with everything she liked, so familiar with the dip and flow of her mouth, so familiar with her taste.

She needed more.

But she needed Rachel to take it.

So she opened her mouth, just like Rachel had requested in Madrid. She opened her mouth and she let Rachel make the move inside. And when she did, when she did it _without_ hesitating and when she did it while clenching her arms, bending them, and pulling Quinn tighter against her, it was perfect.

Quinn's ducts reopened and tears poured out. She felt them run down her cheeks and mesh with Rachel's. When the slick skin met, they tilted their heads, parted for half a second to gasp for air and then reconnected.

It was never enough.

It had never, in their entire lives, been enough.

So Quinn took a step forward. She felt Rachel against her chest. She felt her beneath her palms. She felt her around her neck.

And Rachel felt stars. She felt lightning and thunder storms. She felt her heart ignite. She opened her mouth wider and delved deeper. She needed to be inside her. If she could crawl inside her, she could have her but never get hurt.

She wanted to never hurt.

But she wanted Quinn.

And those two things never went together.

So she opened her mouth and attempted to crawl inside so she could have them. But all she felt was Quinn moaning into her and the sound brought back so many memories it buckled her knees.

It buckled her knees right onto the foot of the bed.

And it brought Quinn with her.

She leaned over Rachel sitting and ran her hands through the wisps of brown hairs falling around her face, lips playing and massaging and begging.

She still wanted more.

"Take it down," she moaned and Rachel reached up, ripped out her ponytail and instantly, Quinn's fingers threaded through it. She groaned at the silky smooth feeling of home and hiked a leg over Rachel's lap to sit down.

"Please stop," Rachel begged while trailing her hands up Quinn's thighs, around her hips and gripping her ass to pull her closer.

"You keep saying that," Quinn murmured into her lips. "But you keep touching me."

She pulled back and kissed her chin, jaw and ear before darting back to her lips. Two seconds away was far too long. She kissed Rachel like their first time, yearning for more and pleading for acceptance.

And this time, Rachel knew how to kiss. She knew exactly which way to run her tongue over Quinn's lips to make her whimper. She knew exactly which way to grip her body to make her groan. She knew how to cock her head and slip her tongue inside that mouth. She knew how to open her mouth, plead for Quinn's and capture it, only to suck it silly. She _knew_ how to kiss.

Quinn had taught her.

She moaned at the thought and stood, pushing Quinn off her in the process. Darkened, sultry, and hazel eyes locked on hers.

_Her anchors._

Her insides cried with fear. But her outsides needed those hands on her.

"Put your hands on me," she begged.

Quinn didn't hesitate. She shot forward, gripped a shoulder, supported her waist and laid her down. And then she stood there, watching, as Rachel shuffled backwards, eyes on her.

God, she was magnificent. She was magnificent in yoga pants and a beater without make-up or a care.

Quinn moved her hands to her coat and took to the buttons.

And Rachel bit her lip.

She gnawed on it in anticipation and those endless eyes never left hers. Quinn's fingers trailed down her jacket, one button leaving after the next and then shucked it off. Rachel gulped.

The fitted black turtle neck hugged all of her adult curves in all the right ways. She found herself panting in need and in want and in everything. So she sat up, shimmied to the edge of the bed and reached out to grip Quinn's belt.

She yanked her forward with it and ripped it open.

Quinn smiled for the first time in hours, one more ounce of relief flooding over her with every move Rachel made on her own.

And she was making plenty.

She snaked the belt off and threaded her hands under the top. They dragged flat over Quinn's abs and up to palm her breasts, those brown eyes shooting up to lock on hers. Quinn panted, stepped closer and brought her hands to chest as well, squeezing Rachel's over her shirt.

"Harder," she moaned.

"No," Rachel panted. She crawled to her knees on the bed, finally gaining a few inches on the blonde, and pulled her arms free. She wrapped them around her neck, pulled her in closer and kissed her again.

She couldn't stop kissing her. She wanted it every second all the time.

She pulled on her top lip, her bottom lip, and pressed tightly against them, just to feel her. She was there. She was actually there. She remembered kissing her goodbye in the airport before Madrid. She remembered kissing her hello. She remembered all their kisses because they shot fireworks straight to her toes. It was something that always happened and it happened yet again.

She yanked back, gripped the black shirt and pulled it over Quinn's head. A black and red bra came into view and Rachel froze, eyes locking on it and tongue running over her lips.

"What?" Quinn whimpered.

"Nothing."

But it was everything. It was red hot Quinn Fabray and it reminded her of high school. She reached forward, popped the front clasp open and swallowed the gasp threatening her lips. They were beautiful, just as she remembered.

God, she felt drunk on memories.

She leaned down and took the right one in her mouth. A hand snapped to the back of her head and a gasp escaped the swollen, puffy lips above her. She replaced her tongue with her fingers and switched to the other, flicking it and sucking it into her mouth. She massaged it with her lips, rolled her tongue over it and then sucked.

And Quinn squirmed against her.

It felt delicious and her head swam.

God, she was drunk on_ something_.

And then those hands slipped up to her shoulders and pushed her away.

Dark, pleading eyes met hers and Quinn crawled on top of her, jeans and all. Rachel groaned at the sight as the blonde's tight legs split over her body and dragged her nails down her bareback until they landed on tight jeans, spread hips and muscled thighs.

Quinn Fabray was on top of her.

Quinn Fabray was feeling up her chest as she kissed her neck.

It felt intoxicating.

Lips dragged over her neck, a tongue licked its way over her collarbone and kisses peppered her ear, jaw and chin. Quinn loved on every inch of her, Rachel knew why. She was relearning.

She pulled her hands off those thighs and around to the button hovering between her legs. But then she had other thoughts and snaked her hands down to palm Quinn.

The blonde groaned into her neck and Rachel gripped harder.

Those legs spread wider, lowering Quinn's body further to the bed above Rachel and slowly coming down on those hands eager to strip her.

Quinn felt them go to work. They snapped open her top button, pulled down her zipper and then gripped the hem around her waist. And god, it set her ablaze. She rocked down into her, center to center, and Rachel forgot all about the hem.

A moan ripped from her lips and she threw her weight right to roll them over. But not two seconds later, Quinn rocked left to roll back on top.

"Let me love you," she murmured into Rachel's mouth and the brunette nearly fainted. It's the one thing she didn't want to do. It's the one thing she was trying so hard not to do. She couldn't let her love her.

But then Quinn sat up, yanked off her jeans and crawled back on top in only a red thong. And Rachel's hands became the brain of her body. They latched onto Quinn's ass cheeks and gripped, clawed and pulled.

"I need this off," was murmured between her breasts just as she did so. She looked down, leaned up and Quinn ripped her tank free before she returned to her spot and put her lips on Rachel. She took one nipple in her mouth after the other and couldn't get enough.

Quinn would never get enough.

It was all happening and so quickly and so fantasmically that she couldn't even think. She couldn't think consequences. She couldn't think what it meant. She couldn't think. She just needed her fingers inside Rachel and now. Screw thinking, it wasn't going to happen. She couldn't. She just couldn't think.

And Rachel couldn't either. She was drunk on the feeling of Quinn Fabray above her, making love to her, taking charge, and it's all she wanted to feel. That hand slipped down into her yoga pants, underneath her underwear and between her soaked folds, and she went from intoxicated to wasted and never looked back.

Fingers dipped inside her, moans escaped their lips and their hearts pounded out of their chests and avoided each other, like similar magnets dancing in the air. They slammed out into space and then they dodged. They slammed out and they dodged.

Quinn added another finger, Rachel gasped, and they slammed and they dodged. Quinn pushed into her, curled, and the brunette whimpered, clenched and prayed for more. And her heart slammed out, went for Quinn's and then dodged.

And then those lips trailed down her front, hands peeled off her pants and a tongue laced through her wet sex.

"Oh, god," she cried, hands slapping over her eyes as she slammed and they dodged. It circled her clit, nibbled on her lips and then pushed inside, rubbing intimately against her walls.

Rachel bit down on her finger and watched them slam and then dodge.

God, Quinn felt good. It felt magnificent. It felt like, like super hero sex.

"Both," she pleaded over her knuckle clenched between her teeth.

Quinn pulled her tongue out reluctantly, pushed her fingers back in to Rachel arching on the bed and then ran her tongue up the length of her. She lapped at her endlessly, because if there was one thing Quinn knew, it was how to go down on Rachel Berry.

She learned in the backseat of a car in the middle of a thunderstorm and lightning struck then and every time after.

And if it took being a goddess while going down on Rachel Berry, well then she would. She would do whatever it took. So she lapped at her, sucked on her, and jerked her fingers in and out of her.

And Rachel fell apart above. She moaned, she bit her knuckles, she rocked off the bed. It was more splendid than the fourth of July. It was more remarkable than a sunset over a field of flowers and it felt better than any other time before. It trumped all the times she'd laid her tongue down on Rachel because this time, this time it was for all the marbles.

She was getting her girl and getting her off.

It was everything. And as Rachel clenched her eyes shut, arched her hips in the air and exploded from the inside out around Quinn's tongue, she slammed and she dodged. She slammed and she dodged.

And she slammed and she dodged.

Her body shook, fell apart and shuddered into Quinn's face until she collapsed on the bed in a gasp, clutching her chest and steadying her wobbly legs.

Her brain fell empty. She had nothing.

She had no thoughts whatsoever.

But it didn't matter.

Because Quinn stood up, pulled down her thong, and crawled fully on top of her.

"Again," she moaned into her mouth, spread her legs apart and laid herself right down on top of Rachel. Wetness met wetness and again, Rachel's heart slammed out to reach Quinn's and then dodged. Their nipples fell together, dragging against each other and over their breasts as Quinn rocked her hips down against her again.

It was the most delicious friction she'd ever felt.

"Again," became the call of the evening. Nothing was enough. No touch was enough, no feeling was enough, and no orgasm was enough. Quinn turned her over, held her sideways from behind, lay beneath her, lay beside her, stood against her, and it was never enough.

Quinn would finish and then, "again," would drop from her lips. If not again then more and if not more then wait do this and if not wait do this then no words at all; she just turned Rachel how she wanted her and loved on her again.

She loved her until Rachel's heart knew nothing else.

She loved her until Rachel couldn't stand.

She loved her until Rachel passed out.

It was the goal all along: wreck her.

She watched those eyes flutter shut for the last, exhausted time and then Quinn broke apart. She cried freely, elated, relieved and for years full of frustration expelled in one evening.

And then she watched her.

She watched her sleep. She watched her snore lightly. She watched her grimace when she unconsciously rolled a certain way, muscles aching as she did. Quinn's heart slammed out of her chest and gripped Rachel's. It gripped it all night long.

It gripped it until she fell asleep next to her, arm around Rachel's bare waist and head in her neck. It's all she ever wanted.

And it was perfect.

And when eight a.m. rolled around slowly and an alarm went off, it shrieked and it blared and it rang out in Rachel's sleeping ears.

She groaned, reached out a hand and smacked it off.

She grimaced at the move.

She flinched with the pain.

God, her body hurt. Her body hurt something dreadful.

And then her brain stilled.

_Why_ did her body hurt?

She groaned and felt an arm around her waist tighten. She reached down, circled it with her own fingers and mumbled, "Mm, morning Jay."

And then her eyes shot open.

Janey.

It _wasn't_ Janey.

She froze.

And the past twelve hours came screaming back to her like a movie in fast forward. The argument, the decision, the hug, the kiss, and the sex in every other position she could think of.

With Quinn.

Jesus Christ, what had she done?


	52. Chapter 51 Sixty Long Seconds Later

The Longest Sixty Seconds Later

_We're home. This isn't my house. What?_

What had she done?

It repeated itself a thousand times in her head, pounding every half second into her heart and flooding her brain with red.

She pinched her eyes shut, rubbed the peak of her nose and then lulled her head left, praying it was a dream, praying it was a nightmare, praying that weight and arm over her stomach was some sort of mirage of fear.

But when she turned her head, those prayers splattered to the floor.

Quinn Fabray.

Quinn Fabray naked.

Quinn Fabray looking like a rag doll.

Quinn Fabray with a single red barrette holding her image together.

Quinn Fabray.

_Fuck. _

She lulled her head back and pinched her nose again.

It was her wedding day. Fuck, it was her wedding. And she had to start getting ready or she wouldn't be on time. Make-up arrived in an hour. Hair in two. Her designers in three. And photography in four. Guests in five and the media in six.

And then her wedding in seven.

She got married in seven hours.

And she was in bed with another woman.

Fuck, what had she done?

And what would Janey think?

Janey.

And the text.

God, her head was a mess. It ached, it pounded, and it swam. She needed out of that bed before someone walked in. She needed out from under Quinn's arm before her heart fell apart, rolled over and took up residence in the blonde forever. Fuck, she needed out of that bed.

She tightened her body and slithered out from under it.

She slithered to the edge, eyes wide on the blonde and praying she didn't wake up. Christ, what was she going to do? It was _her _hotel room. She couldn't leave. She didn't want to leave. She had to get married. She wanted to lie down and kiss Quinn. But god, she wanted to be out from under her.

She needed out from under her.

She couldn't hurt.

But would she hurt? Despite her aching muscles, last night felt incredible. It felt like rushing love out of a fucking volcano and she wanted that. But god, it had the power to crush her. Quinn had the power to crush her.

Quinn _already_ crushed her.

Twice.

Three times.

Four if she counted last night.

Janey never hurt her. She never hurt anything.

She crawled to her feet, grabbed her robe and padded to her bathroom, quietly clicking the door shut behind her.

"Shit," she mumbled, dug hands into her face and willed it all away.

What the fuck was she going to do?

She slashed right and left and pounded a foot into the tile.

"Shit!"

She craned her head back, gasped for air and caught it with her fingertips pressed tightly over her mouth.

"Okay," she breathed. "Okay."

Work it out, Rachel. Work it out.

Quinn was pain. Quinn always brought pain.

Janey brought laughter.

But Quinn was the love of her life. She was in love with her, there was no denying that. But that didn't mean anything anymore. It didn't. She wanted a life of happiness. She wanted a life without such a horrid fucking riptide that she could barely navigate. She wanted trust. She wanted ease.

She'd fought too long. She'd fought through confusion at seventeen. She'd fought through death. She'd fought through heartache, heartache like she'd never felt before and never wanted to feel again.

She never wanted to feel it again.

And as she turned around, set the toilet seat lid down and plopped onto it, that pain flooding back over her. She bowed into her knees and cried.

All Quinn did was wreck her. That's all she did.

And Rachel had fought through it, clawed through, and begged her way through it for so many years. Quinn said it was all about her; life was all about her. Well Rachel's life was all about surviving Quinn.

She was tired of surviving.

She wanted to breathe.

She couldn't breathe.

She rose up, head lulled backed and she did exactly that.

She breathed and she felt Quinn flutter off of her.

She felt her flutter away and into the air.

She would live now. She would stop just surviving and she would live.

She gulped.

And she stood.

She walked to the door, closed her eyes, prayed for courage, and then she opened it. The early morning light of the hallway hit her and she stepped into it, pivoted towards the bedroom and found Quinn.

She found Quinn standing there.

She found Quinn standing there naked, arms at her side and stricken with fear. It wrenched Rachel's heart and didn't stop until it exploded.

"Choose me," Quinn begged.

Oh, god. It exploded.

"I can't," she cried.

That chin shook and, like an avalanche of despair and desperation, it traveled down her neck, across her shoulders and over her chest, erupting in trembling sobs through her body.

"Rachel. I can't do it. I can't live without you."

"You can. And you will."

"Don't- don't do this," she gasped between sobs, chest fluttering for hope and air and solace and a different outcome.

"I need to breathe and you don't give me that," she cried.

"Isn't- isn't that- isn't that how love should be?"

"Maybe, but I- I don't want it," she said, shaking out her tears, trembles and broken shell until she stood tall and with finality. She gasped for air and settled herself. "I'm sorry."

Quinn's face broke apart and her hands went for anything they could find, feeling no comfort in any of it. She rubbed her forehead, jerked to her side, gasped for air, stroked her neck, clawed at hope, and pounded her aching chest.

"Rach," she begged.

Rachel shook away the tears spilling over the edges. She clenched her jaw, bit her tongue and stilled the muscles trembled through her body.

She couldn't break. She couldn't break like Quinn was breaking.

"Please go."

Quinn's desperation and sadness boiled over the edge into rage at seeing the finish line. She saw their ending and she saw the edge of the cliff and she saw herself fall over it. And then, she saw that she had nothing to lose.

And her desperate pleading turned into desperate anger.

"You invited me!" Quinn cried. "You invited me to your wedding!"

"I missed you."

"No," she snapped, swiped at her tears. "You wanted me here. You," she gasped, all of it hitting her at once, "you invited me here to save you. You wanted me to come. You wanted me!"

Rachel shook her head, willing away the thought.

"No, you were my best friend. I wanted you here for support."

"That's bullshit!" Quinn shrieked and Rachel jumped. "That's a load of shit and you're a coward!"

"Just like you were."

"I came back, dammit! I'm standing here begging you! You made love to me last night and that was not a mistake!"

"_You_ made love to _me_," Rachel shot back, regretting the deflection and lie and everything out of her mouth as Quinn shuddered to a halt in front of her. Rachel watched her die inside. She watched the last of the girl dissolve into ashes at her feet.

"So that's how it's going to be?" she muttered.

"Yes." No.

"You're such a liar."

"Please leave."

Quinn smacked a hand on the table to her left and she jumped again.

"Dammit, Rachel!" she shrieked, swiped her clothes off the floor and dressed herself one by one. "This is not you! You're quitting! You've lost yourself in this fake fucking world of easiness! That's not living!"

"I don't want to live if living is what I had with you," she muttered, unable to stop the lies and the viciousness falling from her lips.

Quinn needed to go.

"I can't believe you."

"That makes two of us," she whispered.

"Why are you quitting?"

"I have no fight left."

Rachel stood dejected in front of her and Quinn barely recognized her. If that was the new Rachel Berry maybe Quinn didn't want her. Maybe the girl she knew and loved was gone. Maybe she was.

"What happened to you?" she gasped.

Sullen, empty brown eyes pulled up to hers.

"You."

And it was enough to smother the last beat of Quinn's heart. She looked at Rachel and she watched the girl she knew and loved disappear. She was gone, forever.

And all that remained in Quinn was anger.

She would be angry the rest of her life.

"Fine."

"Okay."

"Fucking get married."

"Okay."

"To a woman you don't love who manipulates you."

"Okay."

"To a woman who's going to walk down the aisle with a broken nose and two black eyes," she spat, threw on her coat and paced towards the door.

"You wouldn't," Rachel muttered.

Quinn froze, spun on her heel and shot daggers into Rachel.

"I already fucking did."

And at that, she stormed out.

Rachel's formerly dead heart pounded once, then twice, and then again. She paced to the phone, picked it up and called Janey's room.

It rang and it rang and it rang until finally it picked up.

"Hello?"

"Noah?" she gasped. "Why are you in Janey's room?"

"Um… she asked me to visit."

Rachel fumed.

"You helped! You helped Quinn assault my fiancée!"

"Um… _where's_ Quinn?"

"I don't know!"

"Um… is, um, what's-"

"Bring me my fiancée!" she demanded and slammed it back down.

She paced to the bathroom and then she paced to the bed. She paced back to the bathroom and then she paced to the bed.

Quinn had shown up to her hotel, the night before her wedding, punched her fiancée in the face and then made love to her.

Christ, she was Quinn fucking Fabray.

Rachel shivered with want against her will and the door busted open.

Janey stormed in, two black eyes, a swollen nose and white cotton strips protruding from each nostril. Rachel cringed.

"Oh my god," she whispered. "She hit you."

"Yeah! She fucking hit me! Where the hell is she?" Janey spat, stormed into the bathroom, threw open the closet and looked behind every piece of furniture as Rachel watched her.

She watched her move. She watched the way her hands flung about. She watched her hair jerk instead of flutter. She watched the fire in her eyes stem from heat and not passion. She watched all of it and she thought of Quinn.

"Janey, she's not here."

The redhead stopped and without a word, Puck ducked out of the room and slammed the door. He couldn't deal with it. If the wedding was called off, he would be notified. Until then, he had a broken Quinn to find and a tux to pick up.

Back in the room, Janey shifted her livid weight and fumed at her soon-to-be wife. She looked into those confused brown eyes and her heart lurched into her throat. She wanted to beat the blonde. She wanted to tighten her hands around her neck and drain the life from her if Rachel wouldn't.

"God, could you put the fucking nail in the coffin already?" she spat.

Rachel's eyes shot to hers.

"Moving day."

"What?"

"Moving day when we graduated college. Did you delete a message from Quinn on my phone? Did you do that?" Rachel asked quietly, fearing the answer and wondering if it even made a difference.

"No."

"Don't lie to me."

"Really? You're going to stand there and tell _me_ not to lie to _you_? Where's Quinn?" she demanded.

"I kicked her out."

"And?"

"After I slept with her," Rachel muttered, eyes locked on Janey. She didn't know if she was testing her commitment, releasing her guilt, or setting herself free. All she knew was that she was talking. She was finally talking.

"You slept with Quinn the night before our wedding."

"Yes. Did you delete the text?"

"Yes."

"Janey," Rachel sighed, disappointed and stricken. "Why?"

"I told you when I proposed that I would do anything for you. It started the day I met you and I still mean it standing before you right now. I would do anything for you."

"I deserved to have a choice."

"You have one. Right now, you have one."

Rachel gaped.

"I slept with Quinn last night and you still want to marry me?"

"Were you expecting an out? Is that why you did it? I'm not giving it to you. Love is complicated. History is complicated. You're scared. I can see it. But I love you. And I want to give you everything. So no, I'm not giving you an out. Just like Quinn won't give you an out. You have to choose. And I'm begging you to choose me," she stated, calm and sure, and stepped towards Rachel.

Rachel caught her breath, cradled her heart in her hands and looked into the ocean blue eyes. They poured forgiveness, they yearned for acceptance and they burned fire into her.

"Why do you wanna marry me?" Rachel whimpered.

Janey stepped forward, opened her mouth, and gave Rachel a reason.

The next seven hours fluttered by with flowers, photos, make-up, and a wedding coordinator Rachel could've murdered. It was all do this, go here, smile at that camera, and talk to this fashion magazine and all over again.

Lights flashed in her eyes.

Designers pulled at her hair.

Artists pasted disguises onto her face.

And her heart swam in a muddy, sinking pit of confusion.

It was her wedding day. And she'd just recommitted to her fiancée that morning. Was that really what just happened? It took until the morning of her wedding to fully agree to marry her?

Her eyes fluttered shut as an artist swiped a touchup brush over her lid, darkening it just like her heart. It was an hour until the wedding, the wedding where she would marry Janey.

She brushed off the artist, stood, wobbled to the dresser and looked at herself in the mirror.

"You're getting married," she whispered and her eyes failed to react.

"Baby girl!"

She whipped to the door and her dad pounced in, tux fitting nicely over his shoulders and smile on his face.

"Hey, Dad," she sighed, instantly feeling better.

"You okay?"

"Yeah."

"Good! Because I brought things," he beamed. Ever since she supposedly laid Quinn to rest after his advice to seek her out, he'd jumped on board. He was full blown on her side, Team Janey, Team Marriage, Team Happiness. And she loved him for it.

"What did you bring?" she asked, curiosity running over her.

He ushered the stylist team out of the room, much to her amusement, and then took a seat in the circle of white slip covered chairs surrounding her vanity area. She was the star, she was always the star.

He settled a box on his lap and winked at her before pulling it open.

"What is it?" she murmured.

"Well, there are certain things you need for a wedding. And somewhere in the process, and maybe because you have no mother, you forgot about them. So I took up the slack," he smiled.

Her heart wept for him; he was beautiful.

"What'd you do, Dad?"

"Here, your something new," he smirked, reached into the box and pulled out a small jewelry box. She reached across, humble smile on her face, and took it.

"Dad, what'd you do?"

"I didn't do anything. Open it," he grinned. She sat it in her lap and softly pulled the velvet top open. Glistening, brand new pearl earrings gleamed back at her. Tears flooded her lids and she nodded.

"They're beautiful."

"Put them on."

She swirled around to the vanity in her white form fitting but southern fluttering wedding dress, pulled out the diamond earrings from her ears and slipped the dangling pearls into their spot. They lit the sides of her face with elegance she'd never felt before.

She was classic Hollywood and the epitome of perfection.

She swirled back around and smiled, pumping palms at her ears to present them. He nodded, winked and gave her a thumb up.

"They're perfect. So next! Here," he reached in, grabbed another jewelry box and brought it out, "it's your something old."

She smirked, reached across and grabbed it.

The long, skinny box felt light in her hands and heavy in her heart.

"Dad, you're going to replace all the jewelry I was commissioned to wear," she laughed.

"Screw 'em," he giggled. "Open it."

She pulled it open, looked at the worn pearl bracelet and shook her head. It was stunning, weathered and reeked of class.

"Dad. This is- this is too much."

"It's an old friend's. It's your old, baby. Put it on."

She nodded, pulled off the diamond bracelet loaned to her by Tiffany's and dropped the old pearls around her wrist. They shot authenticity through her veins and it melted her insides. It was everything she ever wanted.

"And now," he added and reached into the box, "your borrowed."

He pulled out a baby pink butterfly barrette with bedazzled diamonds on it and those tears that flooded her lids moments before peaked over. She blotted them quickly in fear of her make-up artist and reached out.

"Dad, this is mine. They used to be earrings."

"I'm crafty, baby girl. I can bedazzle, too. And it's not yours, it was little Rachel's. It was yours when you were fifteen. You need a little bit of her back in you. So borrow this and find her," he encouraged, hoping his _actual_ message got through her skull. He would stand by her, support her, love her til the end of the day, but by god, he was going to slap subliminal messages into her brain while he did it.

"Dad," she whimpered.

"Side of the hair, baby. Right at the edge of your veil. It'll fit nicely in the curve from where your hair's pulled back to where it drops straight down the back. It looks really elegant, baby. Classic, yet modern."

"Thanks, Dad," she sighed, remembering the first time she wore the earrings. She wore them in the park with Quinn, talking about love being enough. It was the day Quinn asked to be her girlfriend.

She could never escape her.

It was exhausting.

"One last thing," he smiled, watching her thoughts start to crank even more. It pleased him. "Here, your blue," he said, reached into the box and pulled out a burned CD. He placed it in her hand and grinned.

"What is it?"

"A CD, baby. CDs are still current, right?"

"Kind of. What's on it?"

"Music."

"Where's the blue?"

"Honey," he pouted and pointed to the top of it. Blue marker had been scribbled all over it.

"Wow. Seriously?"

"I told you I'm crafty. So I'm going to go and you listen to that. Okay? And then in about thirty, I'll meet you at the back door and we'll walk you down the aisle? Mr. Puckerman was outside sitting against your door when I got here. Can I let him in?"

"No."

"Something happen, honey?"

"Yes."

He stood and walked up to her back, gripped her shoulders and met her eyes in the bright, bulb-lined mirror. He bore into her.

"Baby girl."

"Yes," she whimpered, face scrunching up tightly for half a second.

"You have all the power in the world."

"Thanks, Dad," she nodded, stilled herself and nodded again.

"I'll be downstairs at the ballroom. Mr. Puckerman asked to escort you. Should I decline his offer?"

Rachel looked up into her father's eyes and saw his pleading.

"No, Dad. It's fine. I'll be out soon."

"See you in thirty," he smiled, kissed her cheek and walked out of the room. Rachel pinched her eyes shut. God, they were like water balloons and everything she looked at was a needle, everything.

She pulled herself to her feet, walked over to the stereo and popped the CD into the drive. It crackled, settled to track one and light static came through as she walked back to her vanity to finish getting ready.

And then a familiar voice filled the air, a familiar yet weak voice.

"Baby girl," he muttered and the needle found her balloons. They punctured and she wept as Leroy's voice fluttered over her. "Happy wedding day, baby girl," he said, clearing his hoarse throat and smiling. She could hear him smiling. She stood, walked back over to the stereo and her finger fell upon the lid. "I wanted to be there on this day, so Dad decided I should be. Therefore, we stole your little recorder out of your closet and have- have made you this. Don't worry, we'll put it back. You'll never know."

She sat down on the floor in front of it, blotted her eyes and sobbed.

"I'm proud of you sweetheart. I'm so proud of you for finding love. I'm so proud of you for being so courageous. It was never touched upon in our house because we never found it an issue, but you're the bravest girl I know. You never once faltered on your sexuality, your love and your beliefs. You went with your heart. And I'm so proud to be your father. I was always proud to be your father. I hope you know that. And I hope you know, everyday in my dreams and in this hospital bed, I imagine your future. I imagine you on Broadway. I imagine you winning your EGOT. I imagine your entire life, baby, with me right by your side," he whimpered with a cough.

She dabbed at her eyes and gasped through her sobs.

"And most importantly, I imagine walking you down the aisle. I imagine being there on your left side, Dad on your right, and walking you down the aisle. So in a few minutes, baby, when you walk down that aisle, you feel my arm in your left, okay?

"You feel my arm in your left and feel my kiss upon your cheek. Because, baby girl, I love you and I would be proud, the proudest father in the land, to give you away and place your hand in Quinn's."

She jerked her head up and gasped.

"So get her, marry your soul mate, enjoy the honey moon and don't do anything I wouldn't do," he chuckled. "I love you. And I miss you."

The static died, the track switched to two, and Frank Sinatra filled her ears. She curled over and sobbed into her hands all the while blotting her face away.

"Rach?"

She swirled to the door.

"Oh god, you okay?" Puck whimpered, shut the door and hustled to her.

He crouched by her side, rubbed her back and took over dabbing her face.

"What happened?"

"Daddy recorded me a happy wedding message," she choked.

"Oh no."

"Yes."

"You going to be okay?"

"Yes," she whimpered.

"Rach," he pleaded, one last time.

"Help me up. I have to be downstairs," she muttered and he pulled her to her feet. Her dress fell effortlessly around her, stunningly perfect in every dip and curve. She stepped into her heels, powdered her face in the vanity and then walked to the door.

He watched her go until she stopped and turned back.

"Escort me to my bride, Noah," she said, resigning to the fear and choosing some happiness.

His heart broke, shoulders slumped and he nodded.

It was done.

And before he knew it, he walked her up to the huge double doors on the left side of the ballroom, placed her hand in Hiram's and waited for their cue. His eyes darted around for Quinn.

Come on, Quinn. Surely, she hadn't quit. Surely, she hadn't.

But he saw nothing. She was nowhere.

And as the music started, he took his cue and he walked down the side of room full of people he hardly knew and up to his spot at the altar. He looked across at a blonde staring back at him. He assumed she was Janey's best friend, but he didn't know. She should be Brittany.

God, he didn't know anything anymore. It was all a hazy blur of wrong and he couldn't do anything to stop it as his chest cried and his tongue burned with everything he wanted to step forward and say.

But then the music changed and double doors pulled open down the left and right aisle. The entire room stood. And he saw a stunning brunette in one and a make-up caked redhead in the other.

Rachel put one foot forward and her heart leapt out of her chest. She was doing it. She was walking down the aisle and marrying Janey.

The arm looped in hers gripped tighter and she looked up to her dad's eyes. They overflowed with tears, tears of sadness.

"Dad," she whimpered.

"You happy marrying her?" he whispered, one foot mindlessly stepping in front of the other. If Leroy hadn't done it, couldn't do it, he would try. He had to. He had to. "Baby girl, are you happy marrying her? Answer me."

Thoughts from earlier in the day flooded her mind. Janey stood before her, bloody nose, black eyes and a plea on her lips.

"Why do you wanna marry me?" Rachel asked.

"What?"

"Why do you wanna marry me?"

The memory flooded over as her feet took her down the aisle.

"I want to marry because I love you. We fit. We're cut from the same tree. We drive through life and we love to laugh. We can sit together and be happy. You make me happy. It's all I ever wanted in a girlfriend or a wife. I just want to sit next to you and be happy. We have that. We have Broadway. We have music. We have each other."

Rachel clenched her eyes shut, one foot stepping in front of the other and her eyelids rocketed her back to sixteen. She straddled Quinn's lap, staring into those exerted anchor eyes, silicone still inside her and hands rubbing up and down her back.

"Would you ever wanna marry me?" she asked her.

"Yeah," Quinn breathed.

"Could you- could you tell me why?"

"I would tell you every day for the rest of our lives. I wanna marry you because there's no other choice for me. I've never looked at anyone like I look at you and you've never looked at anyone like you look at me. I believe we're made for each other because we clash, we fight, and we make love like it's going to kill us.

"But we do it because it's how it feels, our love. It grips my heart and never lets me breathe. I haven't breathed freely since I was fifteen and you sang to me in a nun's costume. And if I can make it the rest of my life without breathing right by your side, if I can make it through the rest of my life with my only goal as to make you smile, if I can make it the rest of my life with no purpose but to love you like our hearts were meant to rip open and love someone, like god meant for us to, I'd die a happy girl. I'd die content.

"Otherwise, I've wasted myself. I've wasted my love. I'm wasted. So you see, Short Stack," she smiled and placed a kiss to her lips, "I wanna marry because I can't _not_ marry you. It's in my DNA to be by your side. I was made for you just like you were made for me. And I hope that's enough for you."

It played over and over in her head as her eyes rained free and her feet walked her forward, down the aisle and to her bride.

Her heart fought for Quinn and her brain screamed.

And god, she was so tired.  
>She was so tired of being scared.<p>

She was so tired of being afraid.

She was so tired of fighting for Quinn. She was just tired of it.

She was tired of all of it.

She had no strength left to fight.

She had no strength left to debate.

She had no strength left to pound through life.

So she stopped trying. She stopped thinking.

She stopped fighting.

And she chose some happiness.


	53. Chapter 52 One step, two steps later

HERE WE GO YOU GUYS! XO 53, 54 and Epilogue coming quickly after!

* * *

><p>One, step, two, step, three steps later.<p>

_Can I kiss you goodnight?_

She chose happiness.

She chose easy. She chose a life without the unbearable need to breathe. She chose to keep walking. She chose to nod to her father. She chose Janey.

"I'm happy, Dad," she breathed, finally able to decide.

"Then let's get you married," he sighed, patted her hand and walked them forward. One heel in front of the next, she stepped. She expected her decision to lift a weight off her chest. She expected the knot in her stomach to dissipate. She expected the images of Quinn to evaporate, flutter away and get lost in the wind. She expected to see her relationship with Janey pass over her eyes as she walked down the aisle...

But all her decision did, was remind her of the choice she didn't make.

It reminded her of the girl she didn't choose.

And each step she took, a new image hit her. The wrong images. Each press of her heel into the plush, white sheeted aisle and she saw a new image.

She saw Quinn's back as she hauled her up the stairs.

Right foot together.

She saw her quivering against her bed, revealing her feelings and wanting nothing but to kiss her.

Left foot step.

She saw their first date and felt the truck rocking over the molehills.

Right foot together.

She saw Quinn leaning in to kiss her, because she couldn't not, and she felt the pull of her lips and the slip of her tongue and the beat of her heart.

Left foot step.

She saw the loveseat in her living room and felt Quinn's body beside hers, her lips against her ears and she heard the muttering of her readings.

Right foot together.

She saw Thanksgiving and the first time they touched themselves. She felt Quinn shivering beside her, panting in her ear and laughing about eager beavers.

Left foot step.

She saw the homecoming dance. She saw Quinn in her baby blue dress and her vulnerable heart and her unwavering devotion. She saw her fingers type out a text to out them.

Right foot together.

She saw the park and the swing and the shore and heard Quinn's voice singing in her ears.

Left foot step.

She saw the first time Quinn went down on her in the car in the front yard. She saw her birthday against the tree.

Right foot together.

She saw Quinn saying goodbye to Leroy as she watched from the hospital window unknowingly. She saw the blonde squeeze his hand, promise to be stronger and promise to be brave- one day.

Left foot step.

She saw college and Quinn's books and her passion and her side-slung messenger bag and her drawing on her bulletin board.

Right foot together.

She saw her arms spread wide in the airport. She saw herself crying when that view disappeared. She felt her heart beating thinking of all the joy she would find in the world.

Left foot step.

She felt her beneath her, pushing into her and promising the world as they gasped, panted and fell further in love.

Right foot together.

She saw her in Leroy's arms, laughing and then grimacing and then quivering in fear. She saw her screaming about serial killer this and serial killer that.

Right foot together.

She saw her running down the hill at the lake house with no purpose but to find Rachel, kiss Rachel and love Rachel.

Left foot step- step.

She saw that smile on webcam and remembered slowly peeling off her clothes, watching Quinn remove hers as well. She saw that hand dipping down and slipping between her legs. She saw her screen fog up.

Right- right foot together.

She saw her bookstore- book shop. She saw the chaise in the corner- Quinn hated chaises. She saw the coffee pot- Quinn drank tea. She saw the picture of herself on the desk and the picture of their families on the wall.

Left foot- left foot step.

She saw her face in the cab as she grinded above her with nothing but ecstasy and thank-fucking-god syndrome. Why had she not seen it?

Right foot step- no together.

She saw pictures of her in Madrid; she saw free, confident and liberated Quinn. She saw passion. She saw drive. She saw her doing it all for herself and only because of Rachel.

Left foot, left foot step. Left foot needs to step.

Why was her left foot not stepping?

Her eyes fluttered closed.

She saw Quinn standing before her, naked and stripped down with only a red barrette. She saw her shaking, crying, trembling.

She heard her, "Choose me."

Right foot step- no left- no right together.

Left foot step.

What was she doing?

She wanted Quinn.

She wanted Quinn more than anything in her life. She wanted Quinn more than Broadway. Singing was only singing when she had Quinn behind her. Singing was only singing when the blonde applauded, smiled and rooted for her. Broadway was just a job without Quinn.

Right foot together.

Making love was just sex without Quinn.

Kissing was just a dentist appointment without Quinn.

Vows were just words without Quinn.

What was she doing?

She opened her eyes and felt her father stop.

Yes, they stopped. They _stopped_. YES.

She didn't have to do this. Her dad stopped.

"Welcome to the matrimonial bonding of Janey Jansen and Rachel Berry. Today we celebrate a new bond. Today we celebrate a new love."

Oh, no. He stopped because they were there. He stopped because it was the end of the road. She was there with Janey to her right.

Oh, no. What had she done?

She felt her dad take her hand and move it through the air.

_I love you and I would be proud, the proudest father in the land, to give you away and place your hand in Quinn's_.

Holy mother of god, what was she doing?

Her hand landed in Janey's and she gulped. They stepped forward, fathers standing behind them, and the crowd sat down like an army, echoing off the ballroom walls and slamming into her heart. She felt Quinn's hand in hers on the hill by the dock. She felt a flimsy grass ring fall over her finger. She felt her heart pound alive, slam out of her chest and right into Quinn's.

There was no more dodging, there was no more doubt, there was no more fear. Fear was love, god dammit!

God, what was she doing?

"What a beautiful afternoon," the minister began. He should be a rabbi. And Quinn should be to her right. God, what was she doing? "Today we gather to celebrate the joining of these women in love, respect and marriage."

_Shit_, what was she doing?

Her eyes watered and her heart continued to slam out of her chest.

Janey's hand felt foreign in hers.

"In the words Richard Bach-"

Richard Bach?

Who was Richard Bach?

"A soulmate is someone who has locks that fit our keys," he read and Rachel's jaw fell. This wasn't in her layout. This wasn't in her plan. "And keys to fit our locks. When we feel safe enough to open the locks, our truest selves step out and we can be completely and honestly be who we are; we can be loved for who we are and not for who we're pretending to be."

Oh shit. Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit.

"Each unveils the best part of the other. No matter what else goes wrong around us, with that one person we're safe in our own paradise. Our soulmate is someone who shares our deepest longings, our sense of direction. When we're two balloons, and together our direction is up, chances are we've found the right person. Our soulmate is the one who makes life come to life."

Her face flamed hot and her toes curled.

What was happening?

She needed out. She needed out now.

How could she get out?

She darted her eyes to Noah to her left.

He calmly stared at the minister, listening to every word.

Why was he paying attention _now_?

She darted them again, held and burned them into his back. Feel it, Noah. Feel it. Feel her gaze, feel the heat. Someone is staring at you.

He looked right, met her eyes, smiled sadly and then turned back to the minister.

Dammit, Noah!

She darted her eyes back to his.

"Today we join Janey Jansen with Rachel Berry in a lifelong bond of love above all else," he continued and the hand in her right clenched hers.

She was going to throw up. She was going to throw up on the altar.

She gulped and darted her eyes back to the Noah.

He turned again to give her a quick smile and her eyes bulged. He did a double take and then locked on.

_Get me out of here._

His eyes narrowed in confusion.

She pinched her lips, set her face on fire and screamed at him.

He gaped, in the most subtle way, and looked back to the minister in disguise. And then, slowly, ever so slowly, he pulled back to her.

She nodded lightly. He cocked an eyebrow.

She nodded again.

His eyes bulged.

_Do something_, she mouthed.

His mouth formed an o and his eyes widened with no clue. What was there to do? What did she expect him to do?

She felt hundreds of eyes on her. She felt them on her back. She felt them staring, listening, and falling into the romance.

God, _what_ was she doing?

She didn't want to marry Janey!

She wanted to smack Quinn! And then love Quinn. Fight for Quinn!

"Love bleeds from our insides and if we are lucky, flows into each other through respect, adoration and commitment," the minister continued. Oh, no. Oh, no. "Love is endless, love is blind, love is forgiving and love is forever. In the words chosen by Miss Berry, '_If all else perished, and she remained, I should still continue to be; and if all else remained, and she were annihilated, the universe would turn to a mighty stranger: I should not seem a part of it_.' With that, we read that love knows no bounds. That love doesn't exist without a fight."

That wasn't her reading. It wasn't her reading.

It was Wuthering Heights.

Quinn was still there.

And had managed to rewrite her wedding ceremony to tell her everything all over again and once more.

"Love conquers all. Love is passionate, love is angry, and love is unforgiving," he muttered, eyebrows twitching at his contradiction from earlier. But he continued anyway.

She shot her eyes to Noah.

_Quinn is here._

What?

_Quinn is here, _she mouthed.

What?

_Do something!_

"You cannot run from love. You cannot escape its hold. You cannot escape its power. It will come back to you and it will slam- slam into your heart," he stuttered, eyeing the paper closer.

She was there, she was there, she was there!

"And now for a reading- a reading, another one, okay," he fumbled. "'You were born together, and together you shall be forevermore. You shall be together when the white wings of death scatter your days. Ay, you shall be together even in the silent memory of God. But let there be spaces in your togetherness, and let the winds of heavens dance between you.'"

Her heart slammed out of her chest, bounced through the room and like radar, ached for Quinn. Where was she? Where was she?

And god, what was Rachel thinking? Her heart pounded out of her chest and she felt fucking ALIVE. She felt alive and terrified with hundreds of eyes on her back.

"May love bring you happiness, together, apart, and forevermore, like bees of a hive and short stacks in a- in a hayfield," he stumbled.

Bee.

Short stack.

She'd rewritten her entire ceremony. She'd plugged herself out there one last time for Rachel. She did everything. She gave everything. Because she was perfect, beautiful and astounding: Quinn freaking Fabray.

God, she loved her.

"And now," he announced to the crowd, "I ask who gives these women?"

"I do," Hiram whimpered.

"I do," Janey's dad called.

They stepped back from their posts and sat down with the crowd as Janey and Rachel stepped up to him. Noah fell directly to her left and she wanted to reach out and grab his hand, yank him and beg him to do something.

She had to do something.

She had to turn around and walk away.

She had to, but god there were people everywhere.

There was press everywhere.

She would be on the front page of every paper and every magazine and on every internets- all of them! She would be the crazy celebrity who bailed in the middle of her wedding.

Oh, my god, but she needed to bail.

_Noah!_

She screamed inside, clawing at her heart and setting her tears free. Her muscles tightened in fear as they stepped up one level and then the next, falling to their knees at the foot of the altar.

She was getting married.

She was getting married and to the completely wrong woman.

She loved Quinn. She was in love with Quinn. She forgave Quinn. She wanted to live of life of pain and breathless air and riptide current if it meant she could live beside Quinn.

_And if I can make it the rest of my life without breathing right by your side, if I can make it through the rest of my life with my only goal as to make you smile, if I can make it the rest of my life with no purpose but to love you like our hearts were meant to rip open and love someone, like god meant for us to, I'd die a happy girl._

Fuck, she was so in love with Quinn.

What the hell was she doing?

She wanted to make her smile. She wanted to love with her heart ripped open, with her feet out from under her, with her soul pounding the pavement.

She wanted to make her Daddy proud.

She wanted to place her hand in Quinn's.

And oh my god, she was kneeling at altar with another woman.

_Noooaaah!_

"And now, to the friends and family of Janey and Rachel, I must ask; does anyone present in this room and in the presence of God, object to the union of this couple?"

_Noah!_

Object!

Object!

Her father.

Her father was there!

Dad, object!

Brittany!

Brittany, object! You're second row, center! Object!

Someone, please god, object.

Quinn was there; she'd rewritten her ceremony.

Quinn, object!

Object!

But nothing came.

Silence stabbed through her ears and pierced her heart.

She could stand herself. She could object to her own marriage, she could do it. She could cause drama, set the paparazzi on fire, light the rumor mill aflame and quite possibly humiliate herself enough for the rest of her life.

She could stand and object!

She wanted to stand and object.

Her legs wobbled beneath her. Her knees shook against the carpeted altar. Her palm sweated against her dress.

And her feet wouldn't move.

They wouldn't move.

She couldn't stand. She couldn't object.

She was going to marry Janey and she couldn't do a damn thing about it. Where was her fire? Where was her need to always be right? Because this was so, so wrong. Where was defiant, bossy, loud mouthed Rachel when she needed a lifeline and a fucking-

"I object," called from behind them and a gasp thundered over the crowd.

_Oh, thank god._

Eyes whipped to the far right side of the room.

"Who objects?" the minister called, hand over his eyes to peer into the crowd. "Please stand."

Janey sneered and they turned to follow the gaze into the crowd.

And not a hundred feet away, her knight in shining arm took to his feet.

_Fred._ Rachel grinned, she grinned and her heart leapt into her chest.

"Sir, may I ask why?" the minister added.

"I was promised a different… other… bride up there. And frankly, I object to the one with the fire engine hair."

She hadn't even invited Fred.

God, Quinn was everywhere.

And then a chair squeaked in the middle of the room and eyes fell to it.

"I object, too," Brittany called. "Because I've always wanted to Taylor Swift someone. Also, the redhead."

Rachel gaped. And Janey scowled.

Noah stepped down to the floor.

"I object, too."

"What- what's-" the minister stuttered.

"Because Rachel's in love with Quinn," Noah finished. "And I object on those grounds."

Hiram stood.

"I object, too. Because my late husband would kill me if I didn't."

"Me, too!" shrieked from the back of the room. The crowd whirled around and Judy Fabray crawled out from behind the last row of chairs, pulling a shy and blushing Russell right along with her. "We object on account of falsities and other she's-not-in-love-with-the-redhead matters."

Judy reached behind the row of chairs, grabbed a hand and yanked.

Palo took to his feet, face flaming in embarrassment.

He looked over the crowd, all eyes on him.

"No hablo Ingles."

"Palo! He objects, too!" Judy yelled.

Rachel grinned.

"What the fuck," Janey muttered.

And then the double doors down the middle aisle burst open.

"Don't do it!" Quinn wailed and then froze, eyes upon the oddly standing crowd members and Rachel and Janey on their knees staring her direction- before she busted in.

Oh, shit.

What was happening?

"You object, too?" the minister squealed.

"Others object? Yes! Yes, I definitely object whole-heartedly."

"What's _your_ reason?"

"How much time do you have?" she smirked and dropped her eyes to Rachel's. The brunette trembled in a slight laugh and fell in love all over again.

"What's going on?" Janey's dad boasted and hit his feet.

"Rach," Quinn muttered, drawing the distracted brunette's eyes back to her own. "Choose _me_."

And for the first time, she chose with her heart and her soul.

She stood, turned to the minister and gave him a humble smile.

"I object, too."

"_What?_" Janey shrieked and pulled up to her feet. Rachel turned to her.

"I'm not in love with you. We're not right and you don't deserve this."

She deserves worse, Quinn thought.

"I'm sorry," Rachel murmured, genuinely, sincerely and openly for the first time in months. "I'm so sorry."

Janey's eyes fell to her dress, her hands, and then the crowd.

"You- I can't- we're- Rachel!"

"Don't make it worse," she whispered.

Janey eyed the crowd out of her peripheral vision and fell in step with Rachel's train of thought. Cameras were everywhere. She wasn't meant to make a scene. She wasn't meant to fight, to bust into weddings, to throw down.

Not in front of cameras.

"This is embarrassing," she whispered.

"Come here," Rachel sighed, took her hand, turned to the ballroom and smiled. "Just hold my hand and walk with me."

Janey breathed.

And at that, they walked down the center aisle, hand in hand and hearts astray until they passed through the double doors. The ushers pulled them shut and deafening silence fell over the lobby as Janey, Quinn and Rachel fell into a room alone. It didn't take seconds.

Janey lunged towards Quinn and shrieked, "You fucking-"

"Walk away," Quinn said, stance firm and voice laced with nothing but finality. She wasn't angry. She wasn't bitter. She was just over it.

And she was the one.

Janey knew it.

And Rachel just stood there.

With a scoff, a huff and an eye roll to Rachel's inaction, she turned on a heel and stalked through the lobby.

She was a vision of a bride in despair and loneliness.

And the wreckage screamed beautiful.

Quinn watched her go, appreciating the exquisiteness of it all.

And then she turned to Rachel and she found pulsing brown eyes.

And she found her wearing Judy's pearl bracelet.

A lifetime of happiness, pain, courage, soul-seeking, dreams, anger, and love floated between them, met in the middle and simmered to a boil. It was as life should always be, standing in front of the one you love and with only two wants: kiss them or hit them.

They would wrestle through life forever, Rachel knew.

But it was exactly as she imagined, every time she closed her eyes.

"I'm in love with you," she sighed with a shrug of her shoulders, because life gave her absolutely no other choice in the matter.

"What changed your mind?"

"You," she whispered.

And Quinn lit up.

She lit up with her _lit up because of Rachel Berry_ smile and then she stepped forward, wrapped her arms around her soulmate's neck and kissed her.


	54. Chapter 53 One Year & a Half Later

I love you all.

Dylan

* * *

><p>One and a Half Years Later<p>

_You can kiss me, but do it on the front porch so I know its home._

Sometimes life lets you down. Sometimes life breeds happiness through you into others. Sometimes life sets you up for failure. Sometimes life gives you purpose greater than you can see.

And sometimes, just sometimes, life gives you a love story fit for the pages. Life gives you a story so grand, so involved, and so intertwined that you can step back from it and see the beauty in which you had no control.

Quinn knew this was her story. Her life story was loving Rachel.

And Rachel's life story was letting her.

She let her do a lot, actually.

She let her move into her new home.

She let her choose their bedroom color.

She let her use her renovating skills to line an entire wall with bookshelves for her passions. She had her own little library. She even let her put a rocking chair in the corner where the chaise was planned to be, just because she knew Quinn hated it.

Rachel let her do a lot.

She let her do a lot because all she wanted was to make her happy.

And it was exactly Quinn's only want as well.

Quinn spent her days gaining trust back. She spent her days making Rachel laugh. She fought with her. She bickered with her. She left flowers on tables, stood by her after shows for interviews, held her hand walking down the street, and never once turned her back.

Rachel wouldn't see Quinn's back for the rest of her life.

And it was exactly as the blonde wanted it.

Memories of their past stayed present. They constantly talked about their love and their life and their moments. Kissing in the lobby of the ballroom after Rachel walked out of her wedding, well, it opened up the floodgates and they never attempted to close them.

It took half a lifetime to learn how to do everything wrong.

But once they did, they knew how to do everything right.

Quinn knew how to talk to her.

Quinn knew how to hold her.

Quinn knew how to kiss her.

Yes, Quinn definitely knew how to kiss her. And as she tilted her head to left, leaned further into Rachel, and kissed her for the last time, everything felt perfect to the tip of the needle, the needle that soared through the air and punctured her heart.

"This is the last time I'll kiss you," she murmured into those lips she knew so well. She pushed her further into the wall and felt Rachel push right back. It was always a duel, always a duel.

"You're silly."

"You love me."

"You're marrying me, you'll me forever."

"Not as a single woman and only because I have to," Quinn huffed while pulling Rachel's tongue into her mouth. She ran hers along the bottom, pulled her lips around its length and then let it slither free and back past a smile.

She pulled her face back and grinned just the same.

"We're cheating," Rachel giggled.

"We always cheated."

"You're not supposed to see me."

"I couldn't wait," Quinn muttered, bit her lip and jerked forward for a happy peck. Rachel smiled dreamily. And Quinn did again. And again. And again.

"You're insatiable."

"Do you blame me?"

"I told you what I wanted and you still ignore me. When you got down on both knees six months ago, you told me you would give me anything and everything I ever wanted," Rachel murmured and brought her lips to the porcelain neck in front of her.

Baby blue shimmering diamonds strung along it.

Rachel placed a kiss over each and then slid her tongue down the breast bone that drove her crazy.

"I exaggerated when I asked you to marry me," Quinn moaned.

Rachel whipped her attention up to that smirking face.

She cocked an eyebrow at the daring smugness and then shook her head.

"You _exaggerated_ in your proposal speech."

"Doesn't everyone?"

"No!"

"Sure they do!" Quinn laughed and nibbled at Rachel's chin.

The brunette laughed thinking over the memory. It was her most favorite. They'd moved into her apartment that conveniently- surprise!- was only two blocks from Statom-Fabray Books. They lived a year and half without ever speaking about the possibility of getting married. It was too heavy a thought when they needed to relearn how to love each other on a daily basis.

They had to learn how to exist without fear.

They had to learn how to exist without doubt.

It took a year and a half.

And then Quinn got down on both knees.

Actually, Rachel walked in the front door to_ find_ Quinn down on both knees right smack in the middle of their living room, Christmas tree dull a few feet away and its light bulb strands tangled and wrapped all around Quinn instead. Rachel immediately erupted into laughter.

"Baby, did you get jealous of the tree?" she smirked, tossed her keys on the table by the door and came fully inside.

"I wanted to be sparkly."

Rachel laughed, her shoulders jiggling with glee, and walked across the hardwood floor to the ridiculous, silly, light-stranded love of her life.

"You look absurd," she laughed. And it was true. Quinn did. She was in grey sweat pants, an old, weathered Columbia "We Move It, You Live It" t-shirt, while down on both knees with a shit-eating grin and white Christmas lights wrapped around her like she was a freaking bush in the front yard. "But you're also kinda beautiful. And tied up, aren't you?" Rachel giggled. "I could take advantage of Tied-Up Bee."

Quinn spread her arms wide to show the light strands swirled around her arms individually and not around her fully.

"You're like a Christmas tree right now," Rachel laughed again.

"I'ma Christmas Bee," she grinned.

"Oh god, could you be more adorable?" Rachel chuckled, shook her head and giggled yet again. She couldn't stop them and she was going to explode from the cute and the silly and the elated feeling of living a life inside pure, raw love.

She'd missed it, craved it, ran from it, and then clenched at it from the altar standing next to another woman. And frankly, she liked that design. It fit her; she was always about the drama. She was fit for the stage. She was fit the dramatic exit with hundreds of light bulbs flashing at her as she walked away from her wedding.

She wouldn't redo it any differently.

"So really, what are you doing?" she asked. "Did you seriously just get bored? Did you finish processing Sarah's second book?"

"I told you I wanted to be sparkly," Quinn repeated, face falling still and eyes glinting. Rachel cocked an eyebrow and her lips curled into a mischievous smile.

"Ok, I'll bite. Why did you want to be sparkly?"

"I needed to compete."

"With what?"

"With this," she said, pulled her light-wrapped arms up to Rachel's face and popped open a jewelry box to reveal a sparkling diamond.

Rachel's jaw hit the floor, her heart lurching out of Quinn's hands and back into her own chest to pound relentlessly.

"Quinn, what are you doing?"

"Being a Christmas tree, competing with your ring, and asking you to marry me."

"You've got to be kidding me."

"Christmas Bee doesn't kid."

"I- I…"

"Short Stack," she whispered, slid forward with lights clunking against the floor as she did, and grabbed Rachel's belt loop in one hand while holding the ring out to the side with the other.

She pulled Rachel closer, slid a little further, and landed her eyes on those dazzling brows staring wildly at the ring.

"Look at me," she muttered.

And they stayed on the ring.

"Rachel Berry."

And they stayed on the ring.

"I knew I should've speeched first. Dammit, Rachel," she groaned, snapped the ring box closed and stuck it in her pocket. She reached forward with both hands and gripped the front waist of her jeans.

Those dazzling brown eyes finally snapped to hers.

And Rachel found her anchors. She found them daily, but in that moment, they pulled up and she felt them set sail.

"Sorry," she smiled. "It was just pretty."

"I'm prettier, stop talking and listen to me."

"No doubt."

"Rachel."

"Sorry."

"God, it's like you're fifteen again."

"That'd be a little creepy considering what we did last-"

Quinn scowled and she snapped her mouth shut.

"Sorry. You go."

Quinn gripped the belt, straightened her posture up and took a breath.

"I don't have a speech prepared," she said and Rachel rolled her eyes. Quinn gave her belt a yank and they slithered even closer. "I don't have a speech because this was a spontaneous decision and quite frankly, I've run out of speeches for you. I bought that ring five and a half years ago in Madrid. It was always your engagement ring. I've loved you since I was fourteen, knew it at fifteen and now, at almost twenty-six, I realize what it means.

"I realized it earlier tonight when I was decorating our Christmas tree. I was digging through our closet and I found a box labeled Q. It intrigued me," she smiled and Rachel grinned, knowing what was coming. "So when I opened it up, color me surprised that you had a box full of me. You kept me with you just like I kept you with me. I bought that ring five and a half years ago because I knew you would land on my arm.

"And you kept a box full of me because you couldn't live without me either. And then," she smiled, "I went through the box… because I'm sneaky and nosy and can't get enough of you. And well, I found us. I found all of our memories. I found all of our love. And I found a Christmas ornament."

Rachel beamed, eyes glistening over.

"I realized, holding it in my hand, that it was time. We were made for each other and I wanted to put that ornament on the tree. And well, then, I looked at the tree and the lights and realized I had to ask you to marry me in order to put that ornament on the tree. You know, logistics and stuff," she smirked.

Rachel shook her head with such sweet adoration.

"I dug out the ring, I decorated myself so that I would get a least a little bit of attention in this moment, and now here we are: I'm on my knees and I'm only going to ask you once.

"Because I know you already have the answer and the lights are digging into my knee caps and frankly, it hurts," she smirked.

Rachel giggled, swiped stray tears and tried to contain her smile from ripping her face in half.

"So, Rachel Short Stack Berry, be predictable and say you'll marry me."

A laugh choked out of Rachel as she swiped her twinkling eyes again.

"I didn't hear a question in there," she whimpered out through teary laughs. Quinn slid closer, chest to thighs and knees to feet, eyes craned up and begging.

"Will you grow old with me?"

"We're already old."

"Older."

"How old?"

"The oldest."

"Wash my hair in the nursing home old?"

"Yes."

"Okay," Rachel smiled.

"Okay what?"

She pulled Quinn's hands off her jeans and belt, laced her fingers through them and dropped to her knees in front of the Christmas Bee.

"I'll marry you."

The smile that lit Quinn wasn't like any smile she'd seen grace that perfect face. It told her she'd just made all the blonde's wishes come true. It told her she was about to be taken care of for the rest of her life. And it told her she was rare, to be looked at like Quinn was looking at her.

She was rare. And Quinn was rare. Their love was rare.

They slid together, Christmas Bee and fiancée Short Stack, and then made love on the hardwood floor… after spending a raucous forty minutes untangling Quinn while trying to undress her. It was the chastity belt from hell. And it fit perfectly. Because sometimes, loving-making after working for it was the best kind. Or so they thought.

Turned out love-making pre wedding was _really_ the best kind.

Rachel grinned thinking about the proposal as Quinn reached under her short summery dress, slid her fingers through her and brought stars to her eyes.

"You're cheating so, so hard," Rachel moaned.

"No one will know if you don't tell them."

"I'll know!"

They whipped to the door to find Judy gasping, one hand over her eyes and one over her heart.

"I can't believe you two! You're mucking with tradition! No seeing each other before the wedding, my God!" she shrieked.

Quinn pulled her hand out from under Rachel's dress, gave her one more quick kiss and then turned to her mother. Judy's fingers split across one eye.

"Is the coast clear?"

"Yes, Mom," Quinn groaned.

She dropped her hand, shook out her embarrassment and then beamed.

"You're getting married!"

"We're the brides; we're aware."

"What does mucking mean?" Rachel wondered, cocking her head curiously at Judy. The mother of the brides could only grin, the most beautiful daughters standing before her, and gave Rachel a haughty glare.

"Look who doesn't know all the words," she taunted.

Quinn whirled around with a proud gawk and shot Rachel a grin.

"Okay, fine, Judy," the brunette groaned. "You win one."

Judy beamed as Rachel meandered back to her vanity and Quinn hovered blissfully against the wall, stare following Rachel wherever she went. They were a sight for sore eyes, or any eyes, and all the eyes. They glistened in white; Quinn with her long slinky shimmering dress and Rachel in her short, whipping in the wind like Marilyn Monroe gown.

She was classy as ever; and Quinn had picked it out.

She watched her daughter look at Rachel with eyes that poured adoration. She could've bottled the love flowing out of them and sold it on the ebays.

It warmed her and she thanked God every day for them.

_And_ the fact that they wanted a small wedding in her backyard.

They were getting married by their swing and Judy couldn't have imagined it better than that. Their plans put her dreams, her books, and her wishes to shame. She never expected anything less. Rose Annalee and Timmy Stockton had nothing on her Quinnberry and Rachelbray. They read the book on true love… after they wrote it… and now they sold it Quinn's bookstore.

Shop!

Dammit.

Quinn's book shop.

She would never get used to that.

But anyway! Now it was thirty minutes later and she stood at the altar, Russell and Puck to her right and Hiram, Palo and Brittany across the aisle, and she knew it was as it should be. The low, jazzy music picked up and the girls fell in step down the aisle together without escorts.

Their escorts stood at the altar just waiting for them.

That's how they wanted it. They wanted the aisle to themselves.

Their feet took them through the grass and up to the swing posts adorned with flowers, ivy and lights. And when the music stopped, their eyes peeled to each other where they shared a sneaky smile, both ready for their ceremony and ready for their vows.

They'd written them together, bickered over whose were better, and then made love on the scattered papers across the couch.

But no one else needed to know that.

To the crowd, they would be innocent, respectful and sweet.

But to Quinn and her Rachel, they were passionate, erupting in need and promising unabashed love for the rest of forever, just as their relationship had always been. They wouldn't have it any other way, even if it did mean they would recite vows with mental images of the other panting, moaning and whispering sweet nothings into shimmery, sweaty ears.

Ahem.

Quinn smiled, butterflies dancing in her stomach in anticipation, and then brought her eyes forward.

"Welcome to the enchanting backyard of Judy and Russell Fabray. May we all thank them for opening their home for this momentous occasion. Today, we are gathered here to witness the inevitable, yet drawn out, union of one chatty, stubborn Short Stack and her adoring, defiant Bee," Fred announced.

And nothing, in life, would ever sound better.


	55. Chapter 54 A Year Later

This chapter is for YOU GUYS, FABERRY FANDOM! It was always meant as one last thank you for pulling through this story.

XO Dylan

* * *

><p>A Year Later<p>

_Can we do this again sometime?_

"Hey Bee?"

"Yeah?"

"It's your birthday."

"I know it's my birthday. I'm _me_."

"I have surprises for you today."

"Better than the surprise you gave me my seventeenth birthday?"

"Mmm, that was a good day, good yard… good tree."

"Focus."

"Huh?"

"Is it better than that?"

"Is what?"

"Rachel."

"Sorry, imagining myself between your legs."

"…I don't remember what we were talking about."

"Me neither."

"Come here."

* * *

><p>"Short Sta-"<p>

"Don't stop."

"I- I can't breathe."

"You're speaking; it means you're breathing."

"But- but-"

"Don't ever stop."

"I- I can't breathe."

"You're speaking; it means you're breathing."

"Stop repeating yourself."

"Then you stop repeating _yourself_."

"But- but- I can't-"

"Don't stop."

"You kill me."

"Then die with me."

* * *

><p>"Rachel, seriously."<p>

"Quinn, _seriously_. Turn around and bend over."

"I can't feel my legs."

"You're standing; you can feel your legs."

"I'm like Bambi right now, you don't understand."

"Hold the wall."

"I want to hold you."

"I'm too wobbly."

"Shit, we can't both be Bambi. We'll break another- Oh, god!"

"Lamp?"

"Yea- yea- oh, god. More fingers."

"Shhh, Bambi."

"Don't-"

"Let me work it."

"Oh, you work it. Work it just like that."

"Let me do it."

"You're doing it."

"Mmm, I know I am."

* * *

><p>"Quinn?"<p>

Nothing.

"Quinn?"

Nothing.

"Bee? Did I kill you?"

Nothing.

Rachel rolled herself off the blonde, propped onto her elbow and smiled at the dead face to her right. Twenty-seven year old Quinn couldn't hack marathon sex anymore. She just couldn't. Poor girl: her jaw cracked open, face hung like it'd been beaten of energy, and her eyes sat half-lidded.

"Baby?"

"I can't feel my ear lobes."

Rachel collapsed to the bed in a fit of giggles.

"Bee, you can't feel your earlobes normally."

"Huh?"

"Like, you can't feel them unless you pinch them."

"Well I can't feel them."

"You're not listening to me."

"Whose fault is that?" Quinn groaned, craned herself to the side so she could flop all the way over to her stomach and then smashed head first into the bed. Rachel shook with chuckles.

"Mine, I suppose."

"Mhm," she grumbled into the mattress, bare ass shining in the sunlight that burst through the wall window. Rachel grinned, raking her eyes over her absolutely stunning wife, and then leaned forward to smack a kiss on the right cheek.

"Don't kiss my ass."

"Oh nooo… can we get a pen, please? I need to write this quote down and let you sign it. Quinn Fabray-Berry requests Rachel Fabray-Berry never to kiss her ass. It's just too good. It will be my weapon of mass destruction from here on out."

"Oh, shut up," she husked through a laugh.

"I have another surprise."

Quinn threw herself off the bed and crab crawled backwards to the window. She landed with a squeak, sweaty skin sliding over the glass, and glared at Rachel.

"My body can't take anymore of your surprises."

"You did not just lunge yourself out of our bed!"

"I did. Seriously, I hurt. I hurt so, so good, but I do hurt," Quinn laughed.

"But it's your birthday!"

"And if you keep fucking me like you are, we're going to run out of things to do to each other for the rest of our lives!"

"Oh, please. There are plenty of sexual positions and acts that we can perform. We can even get the-"

"Rachel."

"Kama sutra."

"Rachel!"

"Whaaaat? It's perfectly natural!"

"No more sex," Quinn demanded and darted her eyes to the clock on their bedside table. "Oh, my god! It's only three in the afternoon!"

"We started early," Rachel winked.

"Yeah, you woke me up and then stuck your tongue between my legs."

"What? I felt like being seventeen again."

"That was ten years ago; we do not have seventeen year old bodies."

"I have a seventeen year old mind," Rachel grinned and skipped off the bed, prancing over to Quinn. The blonde shuddered as she got closer and Rachel plopped onto the floor between her clenched legs.

Clenched shut, that is.

Rachel cocked an eyebrow up and eyed them.

And then she reached her pointer fingers out and ran them down each kneecap, shin and around her ankles.

"Rach."

"Mhm," she murmured and circled around to slide up the back of her calves, over her kneecaps and down the sides of her thighs. Quinn's eyes fluttered shut and Rachel watched goose bumps light the wake behind her fingers. She pulled her bottom lip into her mouth and brought her eyes back up to those anchors that set sail a year ago.

There was an ocean of emotion there now and Rachel loved swimming in it. Everything she did, touched, and said caused a different jolt of color or heat or jerk. She controlled them, for once; she was the anchor.

"Do you want your surprise?" she drawled, leaning down to press a kiss to Quinn's bare knee, one on the left and then one on the right.

"I'm scared of it," Quinn quivered.

"Don't be scared of me."

The blonde grinned.

And not just any grin, she beamed like sunshine and Rachel jolted back.

"What are you smiling at?"

"Oh, nothing," she sing-songed and that twinkle in her eye danced through the air and sparked Rachel's heart. God, she couldn't love her enough.

"Speak, woman."

"You said that to me before."

"Huh?"

"You told me not to be scared of you when we first said, 'I love you.' In my driveway, you remember?" Quinn snickered.

Rachel thought back.

"I wore the Chinchillin' shirt you thought was so cute."

"My sleep shirt!"

"Yeah."

"Yeah, I remember! You got nervous that I read your third note. And then I called you on it."

"And then you told me not be scared of you because you weren't going to hurt me. You weren't going to leave me. You would never judge me. And you would always, always be by my side."

"I'm kind of romantic like that."

"You realize you kept your promise?"

"Huh?" Rachel smiled.

"You kept that promise."

Rachel thought back over their relationship, finger tapping her chin and eyes dramatically staring off into… into… the file cabinet? Quinn didn't know.

"I broke up with you in college. And I said horrible things at my wedding."

"Which wedding?" Quinn smirked.

"The wrong one."

"Yeah, but you were fighting me because I hurt you. You kept your promise, Rach," she grinned. "And I love you so much for it."

Quinn shook her head lightly with a humble smile. She couldn't believe how lucky she was. She couldn't. Rachel was… Rachel was… perfect. Quinn put her through the ringer, life put her through the ringer and yet she just kept clawing, even to the very end.

"I love you so much for it."

"It was easy," Rachel sighed. "It was easy because it was you."

Their eyes met and the moment simmered between them. Was it normal to find love like they did? Quinn wondered that. She wondered on a daily basis if people woke up next to their own Rachel Fabray-Berry. She wondered if people woke up to a grinning piece of sunshine next to them. She wondered if they woke up to a generous, curious and delving tongue.

Or did she somehow, miraculously, get lucky after everything she did?

"Baby, what are you thinking?"

"Do you regret anything that happened with us?" Quinn murmured.

Rachel's shoulders slumped under the question and her eyes frowned.

"Why you asking me that?"

"I was just thinking how amazing you are to wake up to, like every day I wake up and you're beaming. You're bouncing out of bed. You're singing in the shower. You're kissing me. You're dancing. You're… you know," she smirked and Rachel's finger took flight again. "And I just wonder if other people out there, if they have a Rachel or if I somehow- I don't know- like-"

"Like what?"

"Like you were brought for me."

"Baby."

"By god or heaven or something."

"Also, angels. They brought me."

"I just feel really, really," she stuttered, trying to find the right freaking word and it just wasn't out there.

"Really what?"

"I can't find the right word."

"Try," Rachel whispered and slid closer, her finger hitting kneecap and falling back down to shin.

"I said a prayer for you in New York on our first visit. That first night when I lay in bed and you weren't home."

"What did you pray for?"

"For you to love me like I love you. For our love to be enough. For us to be rare. For us to make it," she smiled.

"He listened."

"He did," Quinn giggled with a nod. "He definitely did."

"Because I love you more than anything."

"I know."

"And yet I still have one last surprise for you," she smirked, finger trailing over a kneecap and down her inner thigh. Quinn pulled her bottom lip into her mouth and shook her head.

"I'm serious, I'm like… chafing."

Rachel groaned.

"Don't say chafing when referring to our sex life ever again."

"Don't make me chaff then!"

"Oh my god, you complainer, come here," Rachel growled, stood and pulled her to her feet. "Come with me. I won't make you chaff," she said. And then under her breath: "Much."

Sweatpants adorned and topless Rachel dragged her into their living, hauled her to the couch and sat her down. The soft material felt like heaven under Quinn's bare body.

Rachel watched the ceiling fan send flutters of air directly over her, triggering a nice little effect over Quinn's breasts.

She licked her lips and halted.

Mm, they were beautiful.

Focus, Rachel. Focus!

"Can I have a blanket?" Quinn shivered.

"Sure, Bee," she smiled, grabbed the throw and tossed it to her.

"You don't want a shirt?"

"No."

"Oh. Okay. So what's the surprise?" she murmured, snuggled the blanket up to her chin and watched topless Rachel Fabray-Berry wonder into the kitchen, disappear behind the tall bar- she snickered at the Short Stack- and then reappear with a tray of things.

She walked it into the open living room full of black and white photos of their friends and family- their Team Faberry- and placed it on the coffee table to Quinn's right. And then, she sat down on her knees at Quinn's feet.

"Rach, whatcha doing?"

"Well, I have a few things I wanted to talk about. And then I will give you your surprise," she said, turning to wink at Quinn before blissfully turning back to her tray.

"Go ahead… crazy."

"Shut it."

"Sorry."

"Okay," she started. "When you asked me to marry you, I had already said yes like years before, but that's besides the point."

"No, you almost got married to another girl years before," Quinn laughed and Rachel shot her a glare. "What? I thought we could joke about it."

"Not at my expense. It was stressful!"

"I know! Two women! Rachel Berry!"

"Stop! You're ruining this."

"Sorry. G'head," Quinn laughed.

Rachel reached over to the tray and grabbed a bag of popcorn before turning back to Quinn.

"First, this is very important," she said, face falling serious. "I need you to teach me how to make popcorn. I can't do without you and I don't like that. It makes me feel insufficient and like, like you wear the pants or something. And if when we're old and, heaven forbid, you leave me first, every time I want to make popcorn I will break down and cry. So let's remedy that."

Quinn grinned.

"Okay, baby. I can teach you how to make popcorn."

"Thank you," she sighed dramatically, as if she'd just lifted a huge weight off her shoulders. She turned back to her tray and smiled… and then did nothing.

"Rach, but what's with the rest of the tray?"

"They're just snacks," she said. "Why?"

"I'm- oh- but-"

"What?"

"Was that your surprise?"

"God no! I just was making us snacks and was going to burn the popcorn and so I realized I should ask you to teach me," she laughed. "What did you think I was about to do?"

"I had no idea," Quinn laughed.

Rachel smacked her knee, but yet did nothing.

"Rach, is the surprise showing up or appearing out of thin air or?"

"No," Rachel crooned, eyes darting to the clock. She had to spare two more minutes, dammit.

"Okay…"

Rachel smiled.

And Quinn smiled back.

And Rachel looked to her nails.

And Quinn rolled her eyes.

And then Rachel picked up the popcorn.

And then Quinn groaned.

"Rachel!"

"What? What?"

"What in the hell is going on?"

Rachel looked at the clock and watched it click over to 4:03pm.

And then she lit up, spun back to Quinn and sat up on her knees, hands falling to Quinn's legs and eyes beaming.

"You're frightening me, like Daddy used to."

"Daddy was never mean to you."

"Oh! Oh no!" Quinn gasped. "Oh how the glasses go rose colored after death! You are crazy! He was-"

"Shut up!"

Quinn shot back into the couch and froze.

"Sorry."

"Good girl," Rachel smirked. "Now. I made a promise to you when we were kids."

"We just went over this. You kept it."

"No, no. Diff promise," she smiled.  
>Quinn narrowed her eyes, her head mulling over their past and she came up blank, completely blank.<p>

"Give me your hands."

"They're cold."

"Give them."

Quinn huffed, pulled her arms free of the blanket and dropped them to Rachel's. And Rachel, Rachel got distracted. Her eyes fell to Quinn's breasts and her mouth lulled open.

"Rachel."

"Sorry!"

She snapped back up, slid between Quinn's knees with a smirk and clenched her hands tight around the blonde's. And then, then the nerves hit her. She spent nearly every waking hour on the stage, but this was making her nervous. God, why was this making her nervous?

"Short…"

"Sorry, I'm a little, little nervous."

Quinn grinned because shit, Rachel nervous was the cutest thing ever.

"Baby, it's okay. Just say or do or transform into whatever you're about to say or do or transform into. Serial killer."

"Stop."

"SPEAK!"

"Okay! Okay. Okay," she mumbled, shook out her hands and grabbed Quinn's back again. And then, her heart stilled and her anchor eyes found Quinn's. "I'm an Emmy award winning actress, a Tony award winning Broadway star, and soon-to-be Oscar and Grammy winner. Someday. I hope. Really hope."

"Is the surprise that I'm married to a celebrity? Because I knew that."

"No."

"Is the surprise that you know how to toot your own horn?"

"Stop!"

"Sorry."

"And you, you pain in the ass, you own a booksto- shop. You own a book shop. You have a list full of bestselling authors. Your name across the binding of a book means something. Your shop is visited daily. You're sought after."

"This is all correct."

"I would say your career has flourished," she smiled.

"This is correct."

Rachel sighed, Quinn just not quite getting it.

"And when I was seventeen, I think, on New Year's Eve, I made a promise to you. I was drunk, for the very first time ever, but I made a promise."

Quinn smiled, the surprise making it to her head and lighting her up.

"And since I apparently keep all my promises, I'm keeping this one."

"You are not," Quinn grinned, flabbergasted.

"I am."

"We're already married."

"I don't care. I used to steal things from you and lately, you just get all the big things. You got to stop a wedding. You got to punch a girl. You got to sleep with a bride the night before her wedding. You got to bust into a ballroom and scream don't do it. And then you got to propose and so now, now it's my turn… to propose to _you_."

Quinn knew.

"Because I'm twenty seven and our careers have flourished."

"Because you're twenty seven and our careers have flourished," she smiled, nodding with sweetness.

"I love you."

"I love you, too. But let me do this."

"Okay," she giggled and settled back into the couch.

Rachel reached forward, gripped the blanket and slowly, ever so slowly, pulled it down Quinn and let it flutter to the floor.

"What are you doing?"

"Whatever I want."

"Rach."

"I'm on my knees in front of you, proposing, and I want you naked."

"That's not really fa-"

Her mouth snapped shut as Rachel's lips hit her right knee.

"Fair."

"I knew a girl once who said fair wasn't in an adult's vocabulary," she murmured, flattening her tongue and licking her way up Quinn's thigh.

Her eyes rolled back, her head hit the couch and her insides burned yet again… for like the eightieth time that day. Oh, but god, she didn't care. She didn't care at all. Tonight, she was seventeen.

She slumped down the couch and let her legs fall apart.

She felt the grin against her thigh. She felt it good.

"I'm only conceding because you're proposing, even though I've yet to hear a word."

"Maybe I'm not using my words. Maybe I'm tired of being chatty. Maybe, I've learned how to make love to my wife."

Quinn's eyes rolled back and shivers shot through her. Rachel hooked her fingers under her knees and pulled, dragging Quinn all the way to edge of the couch and then, then, god then she crawled forward, kissed her way up the left leg, skipped the spot Quinn wanted her the most, and planted kisses over her hips, abs, chest, breasts and then connected their lips.

She should be required to take that path every time she wanted a kiss. Every single fucking time she wanted a kiss, she should have to take that. God, she should. She groaned and wrapped her arms around Rachel's dainty neck and breathed a hot flash of air into her mouth as their lips pulled and pushed against each other.

Her body was on fire. And her legs kept spreading against her- well, not against her will, but not in her control either. She was falling completely open and surrendering to this girl for the umpteenth time and it felt delicious.

Rachel gave her every emotion under the sun with those lips. She nibbled on her to flirt. She ran her tongue seductively, and god with such raunchy moans, over Quinn's to display her level of un-fucking-believable want. And then she flipped the coin and peppered pecks over her chin, puckered lips and teeth just to show her happiness. She showed Quinn everything.

And the blonde slowly felt herself falling apart underneath her.

Her heart battled its natural beat and tried to kill her.

All she could do was breathe and hope Rachel parted for air sooner rather than later, but it was always later rather than sooner because she could never get enough. It was never enough just to kiss Quinn. She wanted to be inside, she wanted it engrained in her memory, and she wanted the blonde squirming and tossing and aching for her touch.

So she kissed her. She kissed her like the fifteen year old Rachel Berry wanted to be able to kiss her. She snaked her hand around her neck, gripped her tight and drove her lips over Quinn's, controlling every motion, movement, feeling, gasp, and moan.

She was hers, fully.

And Rachel didn't plan to stop there.

Because, you see, the day before Rachel had realized Quinn was the one who took a lot of risks in their relationship. She put her happiness at stake and she went for things. She fluttered off to Madrid. She opened up a shop. She kissed Rachel first. She broke Rachel's wedding up. She asked Rachel to marry her. She, she convinced Rachel to hand over her virginity even after Rachel begged for hers for months.

She did most everything.

And for Quinn's birthday, Rachel decided she would take it all back.

She would be in control. She would manhandle Quinn.

She would take Quinn exactly how she wanted her.

And how Rachel wanted her was on the couch, spread beneath her, and with Rachel inside, deep inside.

So she kissed Quinn. And she took her breath away. And she took her focus away. And she took her concentration away.

Because she needed it gone.

And as Quinn fell apart beneath her, spreading her legs unconsciously and beautifully, Rachel slipped a hand down to her sweats, dropped the front of them six inches, grabbed it in her hand and lined it up against Quinn.

And _that_ was when the blonde froze.

Rachel waited; hovering above her, eyes too close to see, she hovered and she waited. She waited seconds and seconds more.

And then she placed a kiss on the side of Quinn's forehead.

And she waited more.

She waited for however long it took.

It took ninety seconds.

Quinn's breathing steadied, her heart relaxed, and her hands snaked down to Rachel's hips to grip her tight.

"Okay," she murmured. "Okay."

"You sure?" Rachel whispered, kissed her head again and waited. She'd never done this to her and it was something she always wanted. She knew Quinn wanted it, too. But some reason, she was always the one to wear it. This time, Rachel wanted it. She wanted the control. She wanted to watch Quinn's face contort. She wanted the power.

She wanted inside her.

"Yeah," breathed out of Quinn's mouth in the slowest, sultriest way ever, like it was falling free and painting Rachel with sweat.

"Anyone ever tell you that you're sexy?" Rachel panted and dragged it up Quinn's slit.

"Ugh, god. Yes."

"Who?"

"All the girls I date on the side."

"Mm, lucky girls," she grinned and pushed an inch into Quinn. The blonde's hips canted forward and Rachel blushed. _Yeah_, she wanted her.

"Not as lucky- lucky as you," Quinn gasped.

"How you figure?" she asked and pushed in further. Noises ripped into her ear and instantly, she soaked through her sweats. It should be illegal to make love to a woman as beautiful as Quinn Fabray- Berry.

God, it should be illegal.

She pushed in deeper and the blonde ripped another groan free.

"All the way and I'll tell you," she choked.

Rachel smiled into her neck and rocked her hips all the way forward, pushing far into and up against those sweaty, spread inner thighs. Ugh, it was her most favorite spot on her.

"You okay?"

"Hell yes," Quinn gasped.

"So tell me."

"You're lucky because look at you, you're all the way inside me, hovering over me, married to me, loving me, learning how to make popcorn by me."

Rachel laughed and her hips jerked, sending rockets through Quinn.

"Oh, god. Laugh. Laugh a lot and all the time."

Rachel giggled again and pulled out before pushing back in. Quinn arched beneath her, head pushing into the couch and jaw falling open. And Rachel just couldn't help herself. She leaned forward and bit her chin. She bit her jaw. She bit her collar, her chest and then landed over her nipple and bit it, too.

Quinn's hips rocked forward and her hands snapped tight to Rachel's ass, sweatpants half hanging down and as shining free.

"God, you're gorgeous," Quinn groaned as Rachel rolled back into her and sucked from one breast to the next, one and then the next, one and then the next.

Quinn dug her nails into Rachel's hips and focused on the shockwaves shooting from her breasts down her stomach and straight between her legs. With every pull Rachel took, they shot down her walls. And every push Rachel gave, they screamed with pleasure.

"You're crying."

What? Was she crying?  
>"It just feels, oh it feels amaaazing," Quinn hummed and Rachel's pride shot through the roof, right along with her confidence. She straightened up, hooked her hands around Quinn's knees, pulled her wider and watched it.<p>

Oh, she should not have watched it.

In it went.

Out it pulled.

And oh, it glistened.

With Quinn.

She closed her eyes and imagined it.

She closed her eyes, stopped breathing and imagined what it felt like to be that sensitive and that deep inside Quinn, skin to skin and nerves to nerves.

Oh and she felt it.

Fuck, she felt it.

She felt it in her thighs, her lower back, the top of her neck and in her toes. Her toes! And, oh god, against her clit. She angled just, just right and it hit right against her. It pushed, rubbed, and burned against her.

All in the most fascinating ways.

She wanted to know more about those ways. She did. She wanted to know all about it, all the things, every all of it.

"Oh god," she moaned.

And Quinn's eyes snapped to hers. They snapped to her lids because they were clenched shut and her mouth was muttering stuff and her neck muscles were popping and her face was blood red and her hips, oh her hips just kept gyrating.

And every, ugh, every time she went in and then she went out and, oh god, it was-

What was she going to say?

Her eyes fell down Rachel's front. Those perfectly round, small breasts swayed with her grinding. They swished in captivating, mini circles and Quinn couldn't stop watching them.

Until she saw Rachel's stomach and her abs, her perfect abs from that one show where she had to be topless- praise Jesus for that show. They clenched and they released. They clenched and they released. And sweat, ohh not yet not yet, sweat dripped down them.

Oh, not yet. Not yet.

She reached forward and dragged her nails down those abs. Red scratches streaked behind them and she loved it. She reached out and did it again.

And then again.

"Oh god, that feels good," Rachel moaned. The scratches sent shivers and shocks and pulses straight down her abdomen and slamming onto her clit and it felt, shit it felt so good.

Quinn scratched her again, watching the muscles at that perfect vee at the peak of her legs clench and then shudder, clench and then shudder.

She needed more of it.

She reached up, grabbed both nipples and twisted.

Rachel flung forward with a ripped out moan and collapsed on top of her. Quinn wrapped her arms clear around her, hugged her tight and rolled her hips into her. Rachel rolled right back. Over and over, they rocked, until the fire they started churning when they were fifteen blazed out of control and took the whole fucking forest down.

"Your skin is burning," Rachel moaned, smothering Quinn's neck with hot, open mouthed kisses. She might as well have been eating her. She licked creases, sucked divots, bit bulges and kissed in between each.

"My _insides_ are burning."

Rachel pulled her legs further apart and slowly slid herself deeper and deeper until she had nothing left to give.

And then she held it.

And she watched that face. Quinn's eyes clamped shut. Her lips quivered. Her ears twitched. And her stomach tightened, untightened, tightened, untightened. She was beautiful, perfect and astounding: Quinn Fabray-Berry.

Rachel slowly pulled back out, watched those eyes pull open with it, and then pushed back in, starting their rocking all over again. She quickened her pushes, slowed her pulls and drove the blonde absolutely freaking nuts.

Quinn pleaded beneath her. What she was pleading for, Quinn had no clue. But god, she begged. She begged and pleaded and just hoped the something glorious that was stacking bricks on itself inside her stomach and pushing towards her legs exploded and soon. She needed it.

She needed it so badly.

"Happy birthday," Rachel whispered into her ear, licked her way up it, placed another kiss to her forward and then dropped one of her hands between Quinn's legs.

"Oh my- my- my," Quinn tried as Rachel whipped circles around her clit. "You're everywhere. I feel you everywhere."

"Exactly as it should be," Rachel grinned, swooped her head down and captured her lips. She pulled them up, pushed against them until Quinn was disappearing into the cushion and took them home.

She swirled her fingers, rocked into the blonde and slipped in her tongue. It was like nothing she'd ever felt.

And as her thighs burned, her back ached and her heart overflowed with love, she knew it'd always be like; it would always be rare.

They would always be rare.

"Finish with me," she purred, pushed deeper and deeper to hit the spot she knew made Quinn shiver, the spot she'd accidentally found when she was sixteen, and threw Quinn over the edge.

Her hips shot forward, slammed into Rachel, and shot fire throughout her body. Everything clenched, everything shuddered, and everything felt like it was going to cave in on itself into one big combustible ball of energy.

And then it exploded like the stars and fluttered away.

She collapsed onto her wife, head to her heaving chest and ear to her heart. It pounded like it always had.

God, she loved her. She'd love her forever and then some.

"Yes," she heard uttered into her hair.

Rachel took control of her muscles for one more second and rolled her head to the right, eyes landing on sweat-stricken, exhausted, and blissful Quinn.

"Huh?"

"Yes."

"Yes what?"

"Yes, I'll marry you."


	56. Epilogue

Epilogue

_Somewhere in la la land._

"Who are you here to see?" she asked.

"The Fabray-Berrys," he said, his pressed khakis, sleek black tie and blazer screaming class. He turned to the right, grabbed his sister's hand and smiled.

"Right this way," the woman said.

"How are they doing?"

"Oh you know them, they're perrrfect," she giggled. "Always arguing with me, Miss Quinn. And the other, god bless the other."

The girl laughed and squeezed the boy's hand tighter as they walked through the hallway.

"Do they seem happy?" he asked, winking back to the girl and her bright hazel eyes, sweater and skirt.

"They're always happy, blissfully. Always in their own little world of make believe," the woman answered and slowed as she came to a door. "Here's their suite. Go on in and have a ball."

"Thank you," he said, glanced through the window and then opened the door. "Mom?"

"Babies!"

"Yeah," he laughed. "We're here. We made it," he called, but saw nothing. "Where are you guys?"

"In here," his mother called.

"Where?" the girl shouted back.

"Bathroom!"

"Why? What are you-" he started before meandering his way around the corner and freezing. His mother had his mom bent over the sink, hands in her hair and suds everywhere.

"What's that face for?"

"What are you doing to mom's hair?"

"What's it look like? Washing it."

"Why?" the girl asked, bemused grin on her face.

"Because I felt like it! And because celebrities don't wash their own damn hair! Why all the questions?"

"Yeah, why all the concern?" her mom shouted from beneath the faucet.

"Just a little curiosity is all. It's always just curiosity with you two."

"That's because we live life like crazies!" his mom beamed.

"Crazy, alright," the girl muttered with a smirk.

"Hey now! We lived, regardless of how we did so!"

"Yeah, we did. We lived like bats," she shrieked from under the water.

"Bats, baby? What you talking about bats?"

"Bats!"

"Bats?"  
>"Parents!" the girl and boy groaned and they hushed. His aged, yet striking mother turned to him, hands in light grey hair and a smile on her face.<p>

"We lived."

"Clearly," he muttered.

"Boy, did we live," she laughed from under the water. "We're still living! We didn't have a clue, but we sure as hell lived! And look at us now, famous and getting our hair done!" she laughed yet again.

God, he loved them. From the time he and his sister were adopted until standing there before them now fifty years later, he loved them. He loved every ounce of them, even if they never knew what to do, how to do it or what to say.

"We certainly did not have a clue," his mother muttered, laughing at her boisterous, dramatic and darling wife in her hands below.

"Maybe you should've asked for directions," he joked.

And she grinned at him with a smile.

"Nah, I think we did alright."


End file.
